


Glassy Eyes

by jrml210



Series: Glassy Eyes Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual happy ending later in the series, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcruxes, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Mainly Draco's POV, Minor Character Death, Mostly bottom draco, Pining, Protective Harry, Romance, Series, Sexual Content, Switching, Underage Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, mostly top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 85,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrml210/pseuds/jrml210
Summary: Draco had just wanted to become stronger. He hadn't asked to fall in love. Or get his heart broken. Or become kidnapped. But hey, as a muggle had once said - The course of true love never did run smooth.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Some sections of this story in italics are direct lines from Half Blood Prince.  
> **Inspired by the original soundtrack, “Glassy Sky" from the anime, Tokyo Ghoul.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fan fiction intended for adult audiences only. I do not own Harry Potter or any characters created by J.K Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
> This series is halfway finished, so I'll be posting as I go. Altogether, there will be 5 parts to this series, so if long dramatic works of fiction isn't your thing, this series isn't for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The course of true love never did run smooth -- William Shakespeare

May

 

_There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry slipped as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, “Cruci –”_

_“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly._

Searing fire whipped across Draco’s face and chest, causing him to choke out a pained gasp. He staggered backwards; his nerves were frozen with a cold slice of fear, a great deal of burning pain, and _relief_. 

He saw Potter laying on the floor, his green eyes round and filled with what may have been horror while he stared at the blood dripping from Draco’s chest on to the floor. There might have been regret in those eyes, too, thought Draco before his body finally crumpled to the wet floor with a splash.

He had a vague feeling of his wand slipping from his hand. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Black spots crawled along the edges of his vision.

_“No – I didn’t –”_

He felt rather than heard Potter collapse beside him with another small splash. Draco’s eyes were slowly closing, but he tilted over and his eyes met green. Green like the killing spell.

 _Typical_.

Then someone was screaming. That didn’t sound like Potter, Draco vaguely thought. Footsteps moved forward rapidly.

Draco wanted them to go away.

Then blackness filled his vision, the pain suddenly dulled, and he felt cold. He knew no more.

* * *

 

_“….There might be a certain amount of scarring….take dittany immediately…”_

Numbness. It was the first thing Draco felt, and it was everywhere. He tried to lift an arm but it felt too heavy. Putting more effort and ignoring everything else, his left arm eventually brushed against his side and he felt bandage wrappings. His mind felt muddled as he tried to recall his surroundings.

_What happened? Where am I?_

With effort, Draco slowly opened his eyes and was greeted with a vaulted white ceiling above him. The feeling of cheap cotton finally entered his senses and he twitched his hands against the familiar bedsheets.

The Hospital Wing. Of course.

His head slowly cleared. Then he remembered – the bathroom, Potter, spells flying, Potter yelling something. Then pain, blood, _relief_. Green eyes. And Snape’s voice.

 _Damnit_ , Draco mentally frowned. He could never catch a fucking break. Snape must have brought him to the Hospital Wing; had Madame Pomfrey heal him up. Otherwise, this was a horrible setting for an afterlife.

Draco went to sit up, then thought better of it as a dull pain shot through his torso and neck. Looking down, he saw bandages covering him waist up, even on his arms in a few places, and all the way up to his neck.

 _Potter_.

Of all bloody things to happen, Draco thought bitterly. Who knew Potter hated him that much to almost kill him. The rumors of him being such a Savior…. what rot. Potter almost killed him. And what was the spell that he’d used? It had certainly felt dark. Draco had never heard or seen it before.

But Potter using dark magic? Maybe he wasn’t as golden as the wizarding world thought he was if Potter was willing to off the son of a death eater with a dark spell, Draco thought ruefully,

Still.

It would have been over then — his mission, the Dark Lord, his parents. Draco almost resented Snape for saving him in time. Everything wouldn’t have mattered, then. He would have died without having to see his parents in danger of being killed and with his soul intact.

Draco had known he was going to fail his mission, but he never thought he would’ve been the one to end up getting killed. Not by Potter’s hands anyway.

Draco felt an echo of sharp pain emanating from his chest. Whatever that dark spell had been, it had been strong for sure.

Draco had felt something else before the spell had almost cut him into ribbons, though.

Hot, searing fire had swept through his very being and his magical core. A bright white spark had filled inside him as Potter’s powerful magic had clashed with his. It had felt so raw. Draco had almost been curious as to what it was. Then the pain had hit and all Draco could see was terror-filled eyes. Realization had set in then, and Draco had collapsed.

Draco scoffed as he remembered. Trust Potter to fling every ounce of power into offing someone. He should save that for the real Death Eaters, the blond thought bitterly.

And Draco was no Death Eater. He knew he was just a weak pawn. He was too weak to go against the Dark Lord’s wishes. He was too afraid, too cowardly to save his parents any other way. He knew no other way. And he was too much of a coward to tell Dumbledore, who would have certainly had him thrown into Azkaban. Who would save his parents then?

Life really wasn’t fair when someone as weak as Draco went up against someone as powerful as Potter — the boy-who-lived fighting against an almost death eater. He hadn’t stood a chance. It’s a miracle Draco didn’t die, he mused. Shame, really.

 “Hello?” a sudden broken whisper sounded.

Draco would later be ashamed of the way he’d almost jumped in fright. Though, he was startled to find that his eyes had closed without him knowing. He lay still, listening as footsteps sounded from the doorway of the Hospital Wing. The door creaked closed behind whoever had entered and Draco heard movement move farther into the room.

Draco didn’t think there were any other patients in the room, and he was bloody annoyed at whoever decided to need Pomfrey in the middle of the night. He was prepared to see the older nurse poke her head around the corner to admit her newest patient, when he suddenly heard the loud movement move right next to his bed.

Keeping still and not chancing a peek, Draco strained to hear where exactly the newcomer was.

“Malfoy?”

Bloody buggering hell.

Draco would recognize that git’s voice in a crowd a mile away. Why the hell was he here? Probably came back to finish the job.

Potter’s loud breathing filled the room as he grew closer. Then the sound of a silky robe falling to the ground startled Draco.

_Dear Merlin, was Potter getting naked?_

Shamed to know that his cheeks were close to flushing, Draco almost missed Potter’s next words.

“Malfoy? Are you awake?”

Draco kept frozen, but he ached to know where his wand was. Bloody Potter, interrupting his sleep while he was trying to mend. Where did he get off trying to kill Draco and then returning in the middle of the night to finish what he started? Bloody sneaky of Potter trying to do him in with no living witnesses around, again.

“Merlin, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice whispered, a bit farther away now. He must be sitting on the bed next to Draco’s. “I…I can’t… Merlin…”

Draco mentally scowled at Potter’s ineloquence. Bloody Potter. _Go away_.

The rustling of parchment sounded then, before a soft sniff echoed through the room. “Merlin, Malfoy… Merlin, I am so sorry,” Potter’s voice whispered brokenly. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. What that spell did… If I had known…” Potter’s voice trailed off. A heavy, broken sigh escaped him. More movement. “Malfoy, I… There’s no excuse for what I did. I almost… almost k-killed you –” his voice broke off as he let out an angry sigh. “If Snape hadn’t come when he did, I’d have killed you, Malfoy. If Snape… that book... Merlin.”

Draco felt himself growing annoyed, and a bit tired, at Potter’s broken speech. He was close to opening his mouth and saying something offensive to Potter, just to spare himself the further agony of an inarticulate Gryffindor, but stopped at the boy’s next words.

“No, that’s no excuse. Prince didn’t force me to say that stupid spell. I still think Hermione is wrong about him, but… It’s just me. My stupid magic getting the best of me. Yeah, Malfoy, you’re a prat” –Draco frowned — “but even you didn’t deserve that. I just… sometimes I can’t control it. I wasn’t trying to kill you, but my magic just… It’s too strong sometimes, and I… I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Too many…” Potter’s voice lowered, and Draco could hear him muttering to himself. Draco took a risk and opened his eyes a slit, only to see Potter hunched over with his face covered by his hands. He wasn’t sobbing, but he seemed to be almost… containing something. His magic?

Draco had noticed Potter’s wild magic before; small things, inconsequential habits that Draco knew Potter had. And that burning fire in the bathroom… That was raw magic that Draco had felt; wild and powerful. But for it to be so strong that it was near uncontrollable? Draco couldn’t fathom the concept.

While Draco was near the top of his class and had an extensive knowledge of potions and dark spells, he’d never had to struggle to control his magic before. In Draco’s experience, power meant being able to maintain and manipulate magic. Therefore, Draco became adept at Legilimency and Occlumency, although he was more keen on the latter. But, Potter was different. Draco wasn’t sure if Potter had experience with mind magic; it seemed doubtful since he didn’t seem skilled at anything other than apparently throwing pure magic at his enemies. And casting dark spells he knew nothing about.

Draco shook his head.

All that raw power, while Draco had nothing. Draco was the one trying to save his family from the Dark Lord’s ruthlessness. Only to get carved up for it. If Draco had the strength to defeat Potter, deliver him to the Dark Lord instead—

Draco frowned.

No, that wouldn’t work. Aside from the fact that Potter’s wild magic would only try to kill him once more, Draco wasn’t strong enough to do that. He may hate Potter with a passion but if the rumors were true, he was the Light side’s only hope to winning the soon-to-be war. Draco couldn’t do that. Not Potter. After Katie Bell, Weasley, and Dumbledore, Draco knew he just didn’t have it in him to kill.

In the bathroom — while Potter hadn’t known — Draco had been fully aware of how weak his Crucio would have been. Back at home, he hadn’t been able to effectively torture any of the animals he had practiced on. His aunt, his father — they had all had a good laugh at his weakness.

To think that Draco had thought killing Dumbledore would’ve made him stronger. More powerful.

Draco froze.

 _More powerful_ …

Of course, killing Bell, Weasley, or even Dumbledore wouldn’t have made him stronger. Draco was already inherently weak. He had plenty of dark knowledge, and knew how to apply it. However, he didn’t have the experience.

But Potter did. He had the power. He had fought the Dark Lord several times, and bloody won. If Draco’s parents weren’t in such drastic danger, he would’ve considered switching sides long before his mission. But it was too late now. While Draco admired Potter’s power and experience, the bloody git had nearly sliced him to pieces. He wouldn’t help Draco now, unless…

“So, I just… I wanted to just say sorry, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice sounded again. Draco’s eyes were open now, looking at Potter. But Potter didn’t seem to notice, his eyes on the ground, as he stood to leave. He grabbed something off the floor – a cloak? – but he paused. He turned his head slightly to look at the bandages peeking out from beneath the blankets that covered Draco. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

Potter jumped, and Draco had to stifle a grin as he watched Potter whirl around to face him with wide green eyes.

“Malfoy? You’re awake? Er, have you been…?”

“Just for that last part,” Draco lied, not wanting to admit watching Potter near to tears over almost killing Draco. “I heard your apology, though.”

Potter still looked startled but he sat back onto the bed, looking only a bit hesitant as he glanced over at Draco. “Oh, well, yeah, I just —”

“Did you mean it?” Draco quickly interrupted Potter’s babbling. Green eyes bore into him, sincere and open. Stupid Gryffindor.

“Er, well, yeah,” Potter said.

“Good, then I accept your apology,” Draco replied. “On one condition.”

The sincere green eyes narrowed, and darkened. “Condition? Wait. The only reason I cast that spell was because you tried to Crucio me,” Potter said, his voice defensive. “If you —”

“Trivialities, Potter,” Draco waved him off, ignoring Potter’s spluttering. “I was emotionally distressed at the time. I had no choice.”

“ _No choice_ … _?!_ ”

“Yes, Potter, no choice but to defend my reputation as Slytherin Ice Prince after being found with a rather lacking appearance. Granted, I couldn’t have cast a capable Crucio, but you had no way of knowing that.” Potter’s expression had started to grow darker with every word, until that last part. Then he looked simply bemused.     

“What?”

“However, I will forgive you almost killing me due to a lack of foresight and knowledge of a terribly dark spell on the one condition.”

“Because I regularly anticipate running into my enemies who try to Crucio me…” came the soft mutter.

“You should, actually. That aside,” Draco continued. “I will forgive you if you agree to teach me how to become stronger.” 

“Teach you?” Potter’s bemused expression didn’t change. “What do you mean, ‘become stronger’?”

“I mean,” Draco said, keeping his face passive, “I want you to teach me ways to become more powerful. Spells, trainings, the like.” Draco was still laying down, so he had to tilt his head a bit to look at Potter. Potter, who had his arms crossed and was biting down on his lower lip, tilted his head back toward Draco. He seemed to be considering.

“Why?” A valid question, one that Draco was prepared for.

“Because the Dark Lord gave me a mission, and if I fail he will kill my parents.”

A moment passed. When Draco looked at Potter, green eyes gazed hard at him. His stance didn’t move much but he did sit up straighter. “What kind of mission?”

“That I can’t tell you,” Draco replied. Seeing Potter’s face darken, he continued. “If I tell you, and the Dark Lord finds out that I betrayed him, he’ll… he will kill them.”

“What about Dumbledore?”

Draco had to work hard not to wince.

“I can’t –”

“Why not? If anyone can help your parents, it’s Dumbledore. Or what about Snape? Does he know?”

“Yes,” Draco admitted, still bristling at Severus’ earlier act of heroism.

“Then is he helping you?” Potter asked.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Why not?” Potter sighed angrily. “He just saved your life right now. Yeah, I don’t like him all that much, but if he’s willing to help you –”

“I can’t trust anyone, Potter,” Draco finally spat. “Especially not Snape. Not him. Not right now.” Draco ached to run his hands through his hair, anything to calm his rattled nerves from Potter’s ability to rile him up so quickly. He settled for picking at the lint of his blanket.

Draco looked up to see Potter studying him. “Alright, so you want help. But you won’t go to Snape or Dumbledore. You just want to get stronger. So why me?”

Draco laughed shakily. “You said it yourself, Potter, your magic is so strong that it’s nearly uncontrollable. I need that kind of power if I want to survive, too.”

“So, you did hear everything,” Potter muttered. Draco rolled his eyes. “If you just want power then, why don’t you just ask your father, or your aunt?” That last part was spat out. Draco ignored it.

“Not that kind of power, Potter.”

“Then what –?”

“I already know that I can’t cast unforgivables, Potter. I’ve tried, and I failed each time. The intent…” Draco’s eyes met Potters. “I would like to be able to, only if it means the safety of myself and my parents in the end. But if I haven’t learned by now, I never will. So instead, I need to get more powerful at defensive magic like you are.”

“Like with _Expelliarmus_?”

Draco shook his head. “No, more complicated than that.” He took a deep breath, hands trembling with nervousness. “I-I need to know how to cast a Patronus. And resist _Imperio_.”

Potter stared at him in disbelief. “Why…? You’re joking, right?”

Draco glared. “I am completely serious, Potter. I need to learn to resist it.”

Potter looked like he wanted to ask, but then he shook his head. Potter sighed. “Alright, the Patronus spell, sure. That’s easy.” Draco scoffed. “Well, er, alright, not entirely. But the _Imperius_ curse?”

“And the Cruciatus spell.”

“You want me to cast two Unforgivable curses on you? No way, I can’t do that.” Potter was shaking his head, his feet moving restlessly like he wanted to escape.

“Potter, I need to do this,” Draco said, almost close to pleading. He couldn’t help it. He was running out of options.

“Why not just go to Dumbledore?” Potter insisted again. "If you would just tell him about your mission, I’m sure the Order can help you switch sides.”

“I am not switching sides, Potter,” Draco nearly spat. “You’re asking me to betray everyone I love. That’s not going to happen. Besides, have you seen your precious headmaster lately? He doesn’t look… normal. And his hand…”

Potter’s eyes narrowed. “He’s fine, just tired.”

Draco let out a harsh laugh. “You’re a terrible liar, Potter.”

“Well he’s healthy enough to help you if you'd just go to him."

“Not happening, Potter,” Draco said, stubbornly refusing. He couldn’t. Going to Dumbledore would make it more real; it’d be one step closer to betraying the Dark Lord and getting his parents killed.

“Then no deal,” came the swift reply.

Draco started. He looked up as Potter’s green eyes looked hard at him. They looked almost pleading.

“I want to help, Malfoy. But how do I know that you’re telling the truth? How do I know that this isn’t a trap? That you won’t turn around and finish whatever mission you’re talking about?”

“You don’t,” Draco answered, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He scowled. Why did he even bother? “Never mind, Potter. Forget I even asked.” He closed his eyes and turned away, prepared to hear Potter walk out.

Draco should have known better than to ask the stupid Gryffindor for help. Granted, it was a large request in exchange for a mere pardon. He'd overestimated the boy’s heroic nature to save anything and everyone. Like he’d help a follower of the Dark Lord moments after almost killing him. What a bloody joke. Draco shut his eyes tighter, willing Potter, the Dark Lord, and everyone else to just disappear.

“Alright.”

Draco jumped, making him wince at his tender aching muscles. “What?”

“Alright,” Potter repeated with a sigh. He was staring hard at Draco, hand brushing through his hair in agitation. “I’ll help you. You won’t tell me about this mission, and you refuse to talk to Snape or Dumbledore. Frankly, I think you’re stupid to ask me of this when you refuse everything else. But,” he continued, seeing Draco’s glower. “I know you wouldn’t ask me of this on a whim. Plus, I do owe you for nearly cutting you up back there.”

“You did cut me up,” he pointed out.

“Trivialities, Malfoy,” Potter shot back with an impish grin. Draco frowned. “Like I said before, though, teaching you the Patronus won’t be a problem. Teaching you how to resist the Unforgivables though, you do realize I would have to put you under the curses.”

“Yes, Potter,” Draco almost sneered at him.

Potter shook his head. “And you’re willing to trust me with that? I almost killed you already.”

“Which is exactly why I am trusting you with this, Potter,” Draco reasoned. “You’ve had your chance and you came back begging for forgiveness, instead.”

“I didn’t beg…”

“I’m trusting that you won’t lead me to my death or make me do something horribly embarrassing to the Malfoy name.”

“I could get in a lot of trouble if Dumbledore or Snape find out,” Potter said, warning in his voice.

“Please,” Draco sneered. “When has that ever stopped you from breaking the rules?”

Relenting on that, Potter stood up. “Alright, fine. But I draw the line at the Cruciatus curse.”

“But –”

“No. I don’t even know how to resist that curse. I don’t think anyone can. I’m not about to curse you a hundred times and risk you going madder than you already are. I’ll teach you other defensive spells instead, but not that one. I’m already rethinking about casting the Imperius spell on you.”

“I’ve already told you, Potter, I trust you in that regard,” Draco mumbled, exhaustion finally seeping its way into his bones. He sighed tiredly. “So, do we have a deal?”

There was silence for a moment. “Yes, we have a deal.”

“Then I wholeheartedly forgive you for almost killing me with a dark spell that you knew nothing about,” Draco muttered, fatigue showing in his voice.

He yawned.

Potter chuckled next to him. “Thanks, Malfoy. I wish you’d talk to Dumbledore, still.”

Draco grunted, growing impatient as slumber beckoned to him. “Go away already, Potter. I’m trying to sleep.”

Potter let out one final chuckle, his footsteps already sounding farther away. “Goodnight, Malfoy.” A door opened, then closed.

 _Finally_ , silence.

But as Draco neared sleep, he smiled.     

 


	2. Chapter Two

 

May 10

 

Draco wasn’t released from the Hospital Wing until Saturday morning, a few days after the bathroom incident. He left the wing and quickly headed to his dorms, already have eaten breakfast in the hospital. All was quiet and hardly anyone was around. He was briefly confused as to why, until he remembered.

It was the last Quidditch match of the season; one that would determine whether Gryffindor would win the cup against Ravenclaw.

Potter was probably out there playing, Draco briefly thought as he entered his room. He walked towards his bed, when he noticed a stack of notes laid out on top of his covers. Looking through them, he realized they were Pansy’s notes from the classes he missed the day before. Grateful, Draco laid out his books and decided to use the notes to help him catch up with his studies.

It was just after noon when Draco decided to take a break from his work. He was hungry for lunch. Since he was almost finished revising, Draco decided to take along the notes that he had left to finish. He was walking out of the Slytherin dorms, looking through his notes absently. The dungeons were so empty on a Saturday, not a soul around. Draco guessed that the match was still going on. Potter was probably flying at full speed, determined to win the snitch for the last time this year.

The thought almost made Draco miss playing.

“Hey.”

Draco jumped, but managed to catch his notes before they fell to the ground. He turned to glare at the intruder. He gave a mental groan instead when he saw who it was.

“Potter,” he replied, giving him a simple nod and about to walk away. Then he did a double take. “Wait, why aren’t you at the Pitch? The game is starting, isn’t it? And why are you in the dungeons?”

Potter shrugged, glaring a bit back over his shoulder. “Got detention with Snape for what happened,” he said, his voice a bit repentant. “Every Saturday until the end of term.”

“Ouch,” Draco replied, but he was honestly glad that it seemed Potter didn’t get away with everything after all. Still, missing the last game of the season must have pained Potter. “Were you just going to see him, then?”

“No, I just finished. Reckon the game is over, too,” Potter sighed morosely. “Either everyone is celebrating in the common room, or hating my guts. I was going to hurry over, but now I’m rethinking of going at all. You off to lunch?”

Draco nodded once in reply, holding tight to his notes as the pair walked out of the dungeons. He wondered at the easiness to which Potter just sidled up next to him. Yes, they agreed to help Draco with his issue, but walking next to Potter, acting like Draco was a friend in the hallway — it perturbed him. It made him want to lash out.

“So, Scarhead, how do you think your little she-weasel girlfriend is doing? Do you think she was able to rally the troops? Or maybe King Weasley was actually able to block a few rings this time?” Draco started to whistle the tune of “Weasley is our King.” Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter’s jaw clench hard. Ah, much better. “I’m sure your team didn’t lose too badly,” he snickered.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Malfoy,” the other boy spat. “Don’t call her names either. Just shut it.” Then Potter stopped in the stairway and whirled on him. “What are you doing?”

Draco, taken aback at first, quickly sneered. “It’s hardly unusual to be walking along to the Hall for lunch, Potter.”

“No, I mean with the insults. Didn’t last night…? Didn’t that mean anything?”

Draco tried to control the flush that roared into his cheeks at Potter’s wording. Stupid Gryffindor.

“What on earth are you talking about, Potter? We agreed you’d help me, nothing more.”

“Well, I assumed that it went without saying. If I’m going to help you out, I thought we’d at least be civilized to one another. I guess that’s asking too much of you Slytherins, though,” Potter snarled, his glare burning into Draco.

“You assumed, and we agreed to nothing of the sort,” Draco spat out, and turned to stomp away.

 _Stupid Potte_ r _,_ Draco fumed. Merlin knew how that stupid git could get under his skin so easily.

“Wait, damnit!” Potter’s voice called from behind him. “Malfoy!”

Draco kept walking, his head down. Steps sounded until Potter hurried back to his side. His eyes glared at him as they both stomped through the halls.

“Listen, I’m not going to help you out if you keep insulting my friends. That’s a deal breaker right there.”

“So, your friends are off limits,” Draco spat. “What about you?”

Potter surprised him with a self-depreciating grin. “I can handle whatever insults you throw at me, Malfoy. Take your best shot. Just leave my friends out of it, or it’s over. I’m not helping you with anything. In fact,” Potter added, smirking in a most un-Gryffindorish way, “I may just go have a nice chat with Dumbledore. Get his opinion on a few things.”

If Draco wasn’t too busy seething, he’d almost be impressed.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco spat instead.

Before he could walk a few more steps, a hand shot out and shoved him into the wall. Draco felt Potter’s hands clench hard around Draco’s shoulders, holding him fast, while rage bubbled in Draco’s veins. He pushed against Potter’s grasp, and scowled darkly at the stupid Gryffindor when he wouldn’t budge.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Potter,” Draco hissed.

“No. Not until you agree,” Potter said, a dark warning in his voice.

“Resorting to threats, Potter? Thought that was above your golden status.”

 “No,” Potter sneered, seemingly choosing to ignore that last part. “A promise.”

Draco glared into those green eyes, sincere as they were. They made Draco feel both annoyed and churlish. Frankly, he was more annoyed at himself.

He was tired of fighting, honestly. He had enough problems that were more important than Potter. He needed to save his parents. He needed to get stronger. The fact that the git was willing to help him out with both set him on edge. Potter could betray him to Dumbledore at any time. What hadn’t he? Potter had more to lose by not saying anything to the crazy old man and his precious Order. Draco knew Potter was no Slytherin, but he couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to fall, as the muggle saying supposedly went.

Gritting his teeth, Draco finally stopped fighting Potter’s grip. He slumped against the wall as he felt Potter hesitate, then release him.

“Fine, Potter,” he forced out. “No insulting your friends. Any other requests, your Lordship?”

“Why don’t you see Dumble –”

“Forget it!” Draco yelled, whirling around to leave. He’d had enough of Potter’s obstinacy.

“Alright, alright,” Potter yielded, coming up next to him again. “Had to try one last time.” Then Potter took Draco by utter surprise as he held out his hand to Draco. And gave him a small grin. “Truce?”

The nerve!

Part of Draco seethed inside and he wanted to yell at Potter, _six years too late!_ But another part of him, a small speck of a part, was rejoicing with a childlike giddiness. Draco almost wanted to brush him off with an immature kind of revenge. But he sighed, and he looked at Potter. Potter with his stupid hair, his foolish unguarded eyes, and his too trusting toothy grin. It all made Draco want to punch him. Hard.

He looked at Potter’s unmanicured hand still held out between them. And relented.

“You have terrible mood swings, Potter. Fine. Truce,” he agreed with a long, insufferable sigh as he took Potter’s palm in his hand.

A warmth tingled through his skin, shocking Draco into clenching Potter’s hand in reflex. In front of him, Potter’s eyes glinted and he clenched harder in response. Like it was some game. 

“Ouch, Potter, you brute,” he hissed, forcing his hand from Potter’s. Potter chuckled.

“So, when and where, Malfoy?” he asked before they went their separate ways.

Draco sent a small glower at Potter’s easy expression. Merlin, how was he going to be able to endure multiple trainings with Golden boy smiling at him in that foolhardily way?

“Meet me tomorrow evening. Eight o’clock. Sharp.”

“Where?” Potter asked.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know of a lot of places where we can throw spells at one another.”

Potter seemed to ponder for a moment, before he hesitantly suggested, “The Room of Requirement? It’s on the seventh floor across from the dancing trolls tapestry.”

It took most of his energy to not react as Potter rattled off about the Room. He tried to think of any place else. Anywhere. But nothing came to mind, so Draco gave a stiff nod. “I know where it is, Potter. That’s fine.”

“Oh, good. See you then, Malfoy.” Then the fool wandered off in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

Draco stood there for a moment, staring after him in silence. Then he turned in the direction of the Hall, not feeling quite as hungry as he was before.

* * *

May 11

 

 It was a quarter ‘till eight on Sunday evening. Draco was already on the seventh floor, standing across from the Room of Hidden Things. He closed his eyes, imagining the type of room that Potter and he would need to practice throwing spells in. He paced the required three times in front of the wall before the door appeared.

He slipped in, half dreading the room would appear as it normally did for him. But there was no need to worry, Draco realized as the door closed behind him. Instead of mountains of piles of junk with the dreaded unfinished cabinet near the middle, the room was mostly a wide-open space apart from a few loveseat sofas and a small table off to the corner. Tapestries hung over head, while a couple of bookshelves lined the far walls. Rugs and large silk cushions were splayed out on the floor.

It was an acceptable training space overall, Draco thought.

He crossed back towards the door, just in time to see it open as Potter walked inside. Draco watched as Potter perused the room the same way he had, eyes roaming until they finally landed on Draco.

“Good space. Almost looks similar to the D.A. practice room,” Potter replied.

“The what?”

“Er, never mind,” Potter said as he quickly went over to sit on one of the couches. He took off his robe and threw it to one side of the couch. Draco grimaced at the unrefined act and hung his own robes off a hook near the doorway. “Alright,” Potter started, looking a bit anxious as he ruffled a hand through his hair. “So, I think we should try a few defensive spells first, just so I have a grasp on what you already know.”

Draco wanted to argue no and jump straight into the hard stuff, damn the consequences. But he took a moment for rational thought to take over. He’d waited this long. If it meant having to put a pause on his mission, he would more than willing practice his defensive spells instead.

He nodded to Potter.

Draco readied his wand as they came to the middle of the room together, facing each other in the proper dueling stance. He felt a moment of nostalgia, and he wondered if Potter felt it too.

“Scared, Malfoy?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, amused. “You wish, Potter.”

Then they turned, and Potter counted off as they walked away from one another. They moved into their stances and waited, eyeing the other.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ _”_ shouted Potter.

Draco quickly moved aside, having anticipated Potter’s spell. He blocked another attempt.

 _“_ _Relashio!_ _”_ Draco countered. Potter easily side-stepped it.

“ _Langlock!_ _”_

 _“_ _Protego!_ _”_

They threw mostly defensive spells at one another for several long minutes. Draco was impressed at the way Potter moved and whirled away from the spells Draco cast at him. At one point, Draco’s _Incarcerous_ spell grazed Potter, creating a loose noose around his ankle. Still, the boy was able to stumble along freeing his leg while throwing more spells at Draco, who countered them with ease.

Half an hour went by until the boys started to become tired and sweat dripped in small rivulets down their faces.

 _“_ _Oppugno!_ _”_

 _“_ _Furnunculus!_ _”_

 _“_ _Locomotor Mortis! Rictusempra!_ _”_

Draco was able to dodge Potter’s first spell, but not the second one. He went down, clutching his sides together and laughing for a few seconds until Potter removed the tickling spell. Then Potter dropped near him in an unrefined heap, breathing hard.

“Christ, Malfoy,” Potter gasped. “Not bad.”

“Speak for yourself, Potter,” Draco said, wishing for some food right about now.

With a small pop, a full tea service along with a few sandwiches appeared on the table next to them. Grateful for the room’s impeccable timing, the boys smirked at one another and dug in.

“You leave your left side too open, Malfoy,” Potter said after a moment of chewing. Draco frowned. “Your spells were also a bit weak. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were pulling back.” Draco rolled his eyes as Potter looked at him.

“Of course I was pulling back, Potter. I don’t want to be thrown into Azkaban for permanently disabling the wizarding world’s precious golden boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Potter sighed angrily. “And don’t. Throw at me everything you got. I can handle it. Besides, I need to know what level you’re at if I’m supposed to help you.”

Draco sighed but acquiesced with a short nod. “Fine, next time.”

“So, Quidditch,” Potter mumbled, while chewing on his food. Draco grimaced at his lack of manners. Was Potter raised on a farm?  

“What about it?” he said when Potter declined to say anything further.

“Well, er, you didn’t play this year?”

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. “No, Potter. Unfortunately, running errands for the Dark Lord constitutes a certain kind of loyalty. I don’t have time for dodging bludgers. Congratulations on your win yesterday, by the way. Looks like your Weasleys managed without you.”

Potter looked like he wanted to glower at Draco, but shook his head instead. “Was that a compliment to my team?” he asked, sounding bewildered. Draco just scoffed. “Well yeah, Ginny managed to catch the snitch on time. I knew she and Ron could do it.”

“Heard you two were an item now,” Draco said.

“Who? Me and Ginny?” Draco nodded. “Oh, no. I-I mean, I hugged her when I found out we won. Congratulated her and all that. But Ginny’s like a sister to me.”

“Oh really?” Draco said, doubting it. “I’ve heard differently.”

“Doesn’t matter what you’ve heard, does it?” Potter said angrily. “Yeah, I might’ve liked her a bit before. But now…” Potter trailed off, biting his lip as he looked off to the side.

“What?” Draco asked, trying for an offhand tone. It didn’t work.

“Why so interested in my love life, Malfoy?” Potter questioned, raising an eyebrow. Draco cursed.

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m just concerned for the fate of the wizarding world. If there happens to be an exponential growth in ginger hair soon, we’re all in a dire situation.”

Potter snorted at him, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Whatever, Malfoy. And I told you to quit it with the Weasley jokes.”

“Fine,” Draco sighed.

“What about you?”

Draco looked at him. “What about me?”

“Are you… er, are you with anyone? Like Parkinson?” Potter asked.

“So, I can’t talk about your love life, but you can ask me about mine?” Draco scowled.

“I never said you couldn’t, I just wondered why you were interested. You brought it up.”

“As a topic of mundane discussion, Potter,” Draco sighed wearily. “Boyfriends typically like to talk about their girlfriends. Like parents do with their babies.”

“Er, Ginny isn’t my girlfriend, Malfoy.”

“Yeah, I got that, thanks,” Draco said angrily. He quickly finished his last bite. “What now? The Patronus charm?” He stood up to brush the lint and crumbs off his trousers.

Potter looked like he wanted to say more, but he must have seen Draco’s expression. He stopped and shook his head no instead. “Not today. We’ll need to prepare for that. This first time, I just wanted to see what you could do.”

“What on earth needs preparing?”

Potter gave a smirk. “We’re going to need chocolate. Lots of it. If I remember correctly, you prefer Swiss?”

An angry flush crept up Draco’s cheeks. He gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

“Good. Be sure to bring some of the ones your mother sends you next time. You’ll need them.”

Draco wanted to ask more about Potter’s sudden knowledge concerning his palate, but refrained. Barely. “Potter, you’re not making any sense. What do sweets have to do with learning defensive spells?”

“Just trust me, Malfoy.” Potter said, standing up and getting into position near the middle of the room. “Let’s practice a bit more, and work on that left side of yours.”

Draco scowled, but followed him.

They dueled for another half hour before relenting for the night. Draco made sure that Potter left with a few painful bruises.    


	3. Chapter Three

May 13

 

A few days later found Draco sitting at lunch, waiting for the post to arrive. He had owled his mother a few days before, asking about the ridiculous chocolates Potter had wanted. Because of the situation at the Manor, Draco honestly wasn’t sure if his Mother could get them or not.

Draco’s head bowed as he twirled his fork around his full plate of food. The chattering and yelling of those around him fell to the background as Draco began to tune the world out. A sort of numbness that had followed Draco all year resonated within him, like a curse. It only got worse anytime he saw Dumbledore.

Stupid oaf and his twinkling eyes.

The feeling also grew when he saw Katie Bell – like the other day – and with Weasley, as much as he hated the redheaded weasel. Yes, he loathed him but he wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t. He was too cowardly to be one.

A burning sensation crawled up his left arm, and Draco fought the urge to scratch at it.

Draco wasn’t marked. Not yet. No, that honor was only offered as a reward once he completed his mission.

Draco wanted to snort. _Reward_. Like a good dog who finally got a collar from its master. As weak as he was though, Draco knew the truth. He had no choice but to only play the part of a good lapdog. The question was, who did he want as master?

The Dark Lord had nearly limitless power and tons of followers at his beck and call. Some of those followers surrounded Draco even now, he mused, glancing around with the corner of his eye. To defy the Dark Lord meant death. Or worse.

Draco had heard the bloodcurdling screams that one night the Death Eaters had visited their home. He thought they may have come from the Manor’s dungeons, but Draco refused to believe that while he slept in his room upstairs, someone was being tortured in his home just a few stories below him. For a long while, he had tried to ignore it.

Then over Christmas break, Draco was wandering the halls, glad to have the Manor to himself and his mother for the day without his crazy aunt’s presence. He had just finished lunch when he heard the screaming. It was like nothing Draco had ever heard before.

Torturous, drawn out screams riddled with pain. Sometimes the screaming would last a few seconds to a few minutes. But this screaming lasted for hours. Draco didn’t know who it was. He wasn’t sure if they were a mudblood, or a muggle. He wasn’t sure who brought him in. He knew nothing except it was a male voice crying out unintelligible words. The man didn’t just scream either. Sometimes it turned into loud, gut wrenching sobs that made the entire Manor tremble. The guttural sounds lasted for days, haunting Draco even during the times when he would escape the Manor. He wished they’d just stop so he could sleep through the night peacefully.

And they eventually did.

Draco had cried frightfully afterward. 

If those screams had belonged to his father, or worse, his mother —

Draco clenched his eyes shut, struggling to rid the sorrowful expression of his mother’s face from his mind. Her aristocratic mouth turned down with worry, platinum hair lank from distress, and eyes crinkled with fear. That was the last expression he’d seen of his mother at the platform. Draco refused to believe that would be the last time he’d see her. It couldn’t be.

Which was why he had to get stronger.

On cue, the fluttering of wings could be heard above. Draco glanced up as he saw a recognizable haughty eagle land gracefully in front of him. Handing the family eagle a biscuit in thanks, Draco took the envelope and package it carried. He opened the letter as it flew off, and stared in wonder at his mother’s familiar handwriting. It was a short missive.

 

_My dragon,_

_I was so glad to receive your letter, dear. It relieves me to hear how well you are doing on your studies. I would expect nothing less from you. I am so proud of all that you have accomplished. As you mentioned in your last letter about your conference with Professor Snape — while it may be unclear as to your future professional endeavors, I will fully support you in whatever you decide._

_Remember that I cherish you, my dragon. You are my proudest creation and my most treasured gift. Please remember that before you make any hasty decisions._

_Enclosed is the parcel you asked for. I hope you enjoy them, dear. They bring back some very enjoyable memories during our holiday in Marseille._

_Our guests eagerly await your arrival. As do I, my dragon._

_With all my love,_

_Mother_  

 

 It took a moment for Draco to find his composure. Once he was sure his hands weren’t shaking, he carefully folded the letter closed and set it aside for the moment. He opened the package next, glimpsing his favorite imported chocolates within.

Draco finally glanced up, searching. It only took a moment, but the eyes he sought finally turned to him. A full eyebrow raised, questioning.

Draco gave a curt nod. Picking up both his mother’s letter and the chocolates, he left his nearly full plate behind and exited the Great Hall towards his next class. He’d be early, but he could work on revisions until class began.

As he waited for class to start, Draco absently thought back to the agreed plan he had with Potter. They had decided to meet that evening at the same time, provided his mother had sent the chocolates. Beyond that, they hadn’t had much contact or communication between them since their practice Sunday evening.

In the halls, the boys gave each other short nods but went their separate ways like they had done most of the year. Draco wasn’t sure if Potter had revealed to the rest of the Golden Trio what had transpired between them, or about the late-night practice sessions he had planned with Draco.

He wasn’t sure he wanted them to know what was going on, to be honest. Revealing what happened that night would have Granger and the Weasel attempting to protect Potter from him. As if Draco could hurt him, he mused. It was more like the other way around.

Students filling the classroom broke Draco from his reverie. He sat up, careful to avoid any prying eyes; like those that he knew came from the Slytherin students.

Draco knew there were harsh eyes watching his every move, waiting for him to make a mistake. They’d either strike, or worse, contact someone who would call the Dark Lord.

No one was safe. Draco had enemies on both sides who were just waiting for him to make that single step out of line. 

Except Potter.

Begrudging as he may be, Draco was grateful that at least one person was willing to not kill him the first chance he got. Not again, anyway.

How long would it last though?

* * *

 

“Now, conjuring a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit room when there’s no threat is very different to producing it when confronted by a dementor,” Potter was saying later that night.

Both boys had just finished a tray of sandwiches, deciding that eating first would give them more strength for tonight’s session. He’d never admit it, but Draco was anxious about learning how to cast the spell. He didn’t doubt his own abilities; at the same time, he did. It was common knowledge that Death Eaters couldn’t cast Patronuses. While he wasn’t an official one, Draco feared that it was the same for him.

So, Draco was a bit irritable to Potter.

“Enough with the obvious,” Draco scowled, wand tapping restlessly against his thigh.

“What we really need is a boggart,” Potter continued patiently. “That’s how Professor Lupin taught me. Granted, the D.A. didn’t need to use one so I reckon you’ll be alright.”

“What would you need a boggart for?”

“To practice with. The boggart pretended to be a dementor –”

“Well, fat chance of that, Potter,” Draco spat. “My boggart isn’t a dementor.”

Potter ruffled his hair, and came up beside Draco. “Yeah, you don’t really need one. Just thought it would help, I guess. So, the incantation is –”

“I know the incantation, Potter,” Draco said. “I’m aware of the theory behind it — you’ve got to think of something happy. My problem, Potter, is that it doesn’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the happy memory doesn’t work. Nothing happens.” Draco watched as Potter hummed, pacing beside him thoughtfully.

“Maybe the memory you’re using isn’t good enough?” the other boy guessed. “When I first tried, I thought of the first time I rode a broom. Lupin told me that wasn’t nearly enough, though, and he was right. The spell didn’t take.” Potter stared hard at him. “You’ve got to think of something deeper. Riding a broom, opening a present, picking on first years – none of those are good enough if you want the spell to work right.”

“What was your memory, then?” Draco asked without thinking.

The other boy looked at him, looking hesitant to answer.

“Leaving Privet drive,” he eventually said, but the words confused Draco.

“’Privet drive’?”

“It’s the place I lived at before Hogwarts,” Potter said curtly, looking as if he wanted to end the conversation there. “But that’s not always the memory I use. Sometimes it’s about Hogwarts, or Ron, his family, Hermione. My parents.”

Unease settled in Draco. He recalled all the times he had teased Potter about his dead parents, and he squirmed where he stood, uncomfortable now. Potter didn’t seem to notice his distress, however, or he chose to overlook it. Either way, he quickly continued.

“Alright, Malfoy. Let’s see you try it,” Potter said. “Maybe if I watch, I can tell you what you’re doing wrong.” He walked a few yards away from Draco, giving him the space he needed.

For that, Draco felt grateful. He raised his wand, and carefully concentrated as he searched for a happy memory. The last few times he’d tried to cast, he’d thought of Christmas dinners with his parents or that time his father had bought him his first eagle. Funnily enough, Draco had also thought of the first few times he’d rode a broom. It was uncanny how similar he and Potter were at times, Draco thought.

None of those memories had worked though, he remembered. So, he cast around for something else. Anything. He thought, and thought, searching.

There were flashes of his childhood: a mixture of innocent naivetés, light laughter, candid curiosity soon followed by pain and fear, then strict decorum.

Memories of Hogwarts; a rejected handshake, flashes of smiling with the Slytherins, pranking younger students and taunting Potter, his first—and last—kiss with Pansy, then his first experimental kiss with Blaise in fourth year.

Then the summer after his fifth year; seeing only his mother at the platform, the cold absence of his father, the screams at the manor, his aunt’s deranged laughter, merciless red eyes —

“ _No!_ ” Draco shouted, throwing his wand to the ground and burying his face in his hands. “I can’t do it.”

He heard Potter take a step towards him, before he felt a hand lightly brush his shoulder.

“Malfoy.”

“It won’t work for me,” Draco interrupted. “The memories just aren’t there.”

“Are you having trouble focusing —?”

“My focus is fine, Potter,” Draco scowled. He looked at Potter. “Isn’t there another way?”

The Gryffindor shook his head. “This is the only way I know, Malfoy.” He walked over and grabbed the carton of fine chocolates from the table. He handed Draco a piece. “Here, eat one. It’ll help. The first time hardly ever works right, anyway.”

Draco grumbled his thanks and absently chewed away at the piece of fine chocolate.

“What were you thinking of?”

Draco took a moment to answer, unwilling to divulge his deepest secrets. “My parents.”

“Oh,” Potter said simply.

“Yes, _oh_.”

“And Lucius —?”

“He’s still my father,” Draco said. “He may be your enemy, Potter, but he is still the man who raised me. He cared for me and my mother. He still does,” Draco added, wishing he could believe his own words. Potter also looked unconvinced.

“Right.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Maybe it needs a stronger memory?” he suggested.

“Oh, sure, Potter. What a fine teacher you are, pointing out the obvious. Why didn’t I think of that?” Draco said sarcastically. “I’ll just pull out a happy memory, shall I? Let me think to this last summer when the Dark Lord invited himself as our guest over to the Manor, or when Fenrir came with him asking if my mother and I were a part of the menu. Or what about the time the screaming had finally stopped and I was finally able to sleep through the night. Pray tell, Potter, what strong memory do you think I should use?”  

By the time he was finished, Draco was waving his arms everywhere and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Horrified and ashamed at himself, Draco struggled to lower his arms around himself as he began to let loose a self-depreciating laugh that sounded more like his crazed aunt’s near the end.

Merlin, he was finally losing it.

Draco was still laughing, but he shifted slightly so that Potter wouldn’t witness the slight mad glint in his eyes that he was sure was there.

Potter was nothing if but tenacious, though, the git.

Hands brushed across his shoulder, making Draco tense. “Malfoy?” Potter’s voice sounded beside him.

Draco gasped out a last laugh, horrified that it almost sounded like he was close to tears. Maybe he was.

“What, Potter? Can’t you see that I’m having a crisis?”

He saw Potter bite his lip nervously and rake a hand through his wild black mane. “Yeah, Malfoy, I see that. Didn’t expect you to have one on my watch. Should have known, though, with how you’re refusing to talk to anyone else.”

Draco snorted at Potter’s poor sense of humor.

“Shove off,” he said. Potter only rolled his eyes and walked over to one of the couches.

“Sit, Malfoy,” Potter ordered, his green eyes boring into Draco’s.

Draco bristled. He found his legs moving before he could stop, though.

“I’m not your pet, Potter,” Draco finally managed as he sat on the far side of the same couch that Potter was sitting on. He pulled his knees forward and wrapped his arms around them protectively. He hated being in such a vulnerable looking position, but fuck it. Potter wouldn’t exactly tell anyone about Draco’s show of emotion. Draco was sure it went against some Gryffindor oath of loyalty or some such rubbish. “Just give me a moment, and we’ll continue —”

“Cut the shit, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice said.

Draco’s head snapped up.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Malfoy. We’re not about to practice when you’re looking like that.”

“Looking like what, exactly, Potter?”

“Like you’re about to keel over, Malfoy. Your skin is pastier than normal, which is a feat in and of itself, to be honest.”

Draco scowled. “Fuck off, Potter.”

Potter flashed a toothy grin. “Not right now, thanks. I think we need to get you sorted out first.”

“What’s there to sort out?” Draco asked, willing the trembling in his hands to stop.

“You can’t find a powerful happy memory, Malfoy, because you don’t have one. You can’t produce the Patronus, though, without it.”

“Yes, Potter, thanks for stating the obvious once again,” Draco lashed out. Potter merely shifted on the couch, settling in to get more comfortable. He also grabbed another of his mother’s chocolates. Prat.

“You need a happy memory, Malfoy,” he said while chewing. “We can’t continue until you find one, which puts us at a standstill.”

“Then teach me _Imperio_ instead,” Draco offered. Potter shook his head.

“If I’m going to teach you to resist that spell, I think there’s going to have to be a level of trust between us first, Malfoy.”

“I already told you. I trust you in that sense, Potter.”

“But how can I trust you?” he said, which brought Draco up short. “We already agreed that you would forgive me for, uh —”

“Nearly killing me in a bathroom?”

“Er, yeah,” Potter stammered, quickly continuing. “And you stated that you’re not willing to ask Dumbledore or Snape for help about your, uh, mission.”

“Precisely.”

“But Snape knows about it?”

“Yes,” Draco answered, clenching his jaw. “I told you, I don’t want to —”

“Alright,” Potter said quickly. “I just… you can’t expect me to just let this go. I can’t possibly ignore the fact that you’re working on a mission for Voldemort, but that you’re also wanting to get magically stronger so you can protect your parents. I understand your father, but what does your mother have to do with Voldemort? What’s so dangerous about this mission? Does it affect Hogwarts? You don’t have the Dark Mark, I saw that in the Hospital Wing. So, you aren’t a true follower of his. But then, why are you helping him?”

Besides the slight wince at Potter’s casual use of the Dark Lord’s name, Draco kept his face impassive. Inside he was panicking, though, at Potter’s list of questions. This was getting too close to dangerous territory, he thought. As much as he needed Potter’s help, he couldn’t risk putting his parents’ lives in more danger.

Not completing the mission, though, would kill them anyway, another part of him pointed out. He needed to get stronger, which meant he needed Potter’s help. Meaning he’d have to answer the prat’s questions if they were going to go any further, apparently.

Draco struggled to think of all his options, but time was already running out. What could he think of now that he already hadn’t considered all year? He had no other choices. Other than finding a Time Turner and going back in time to escape with his mother while he still could.

Damn Potter’s Gryffindor propensities, Draco cursed as he looked up, seeing Potter stare back at him. It unnerved him.

“You’re obsessed, Potter,” he said.

The other boy laughed shrewdly, but Draco noticed that he had grimaced slightly. “Can’t help it, Malfoy. You fascinate me, and not in the good way.”

Draco held in a snort.

Potter was going to lead him to his death, Draco thought, if the prat didn’t annoy him to death first.


	4. Chapter Four

“So, have you decided to tell me yet, Malfoy?” Potter asked, his gaze serious.

Draco rolled his eyes haughtily. “Fine, Potter, you win. As usual.”

“You’re going to tell me what your mission is, then? Or not?”

Draco shook his head. “No.”

“No, you aren’t —?”

“No, as in I can’t. I’m under oath, Potter. I can’t tell anyone,” he admitted. “Otherwise, I will literally choke to death before I can even finish betraying the Dark Lord.”

Potter’s expression fell and he ran a hand down his face. “Blast, well that certainly doesn’t help things.”

“No, but I can tell you… other things.”

“Yeah?” Potter prompted, his voice serious.

Draco sighed in exasperation, taking another piece of chocolate while there were still some left.

Merlin, he hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

“I can’t tell you about my mission, Potter,” he said. “But I can tell you some of what the Dark Lord is planning. He’s looking for something, or someone even. It’s some kind of ancient object that’s supposedly very powerful, and the Dark Lord is willing to do anything to get it. Apparently, it came from Death itself. Or so I’ve heard from the others.”

Potter hummed thoughtfully. “Do you know what it looks like?”

Draco shook his head. “No. No one really does. It’s something that’s just whispers right now, but we know the Dark Lord is intent on finding it, whatever it is. Not just that, though. He’s also looking for a candidate.”

“A candidate?”

“Yes, but I’m not exactly sure for what. All I know is,” and here Draco had to take a deep breath. “All I know is that the others have been bringing a dozen people by. All of them are young males, maybe a few years older than us. They’re taken into the dungeons where they’re tortured for weeks. I don’t want to think of how, but I can tell by their screaming that it’s not something I want to imagine.”

“How do you know they’re not just innocent captives?” Potter asked, his eyes hard and jaw clenched with anger.

“I thought that too,” Draco replied. “The tortures would last for weeks. But when… whenever one of them d-died, the Dark Lord actually looked really upset about it. He’d rage for a while until he found another one. It’s like,” Draco said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure, but it’s like he was testing them for something. Maybe they didn’t pass his test, I don’t know.”

“What possible test…?” Potter murmured.

“I don’t know. But the Dark Lord is keeping it all very hushed except for his inner circle. I’m not a part of that, though, and no longer is my father since he’s in Azkaban. Other than that, all I know is what I’ve figured out for myself. The Dark Lord is wanting to start a war. He’s gathering the giants, werewolves, dementors, and all sorts of other dark creatures to his aid.”

“Aid to what? Rid the world of muggles?” Potter asked.

“That, and more. He wants to finish what Grindelwald couldn’t during the first war. He plans to overthrow the Ministry, and kill anyone who tries to stop him.”

“Dumbledore can,” Potter said, not noticing Draco’s wince. “If anyone can stop Voldemort, it’s him. He’s the most powerful wizard alive, and Voldemort’s afraid of him.”

“What about you, Chosen One?” Draco asked, trying to steer away from the topic of the old Headmaster. “Rumors have it that you’re supposed to be the Savior of the Wizarding World.”

Potter grimaced at him. “Er, right, yeah. Don’t call me that, though.”

“So, it’s true then?” Draco said, holding in a gasp. “I heard about some prophecy that the Dark Lord was supposedly after last year, too. It was about you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Potter sighed. “It said that the one Voldemort chose as his equal would be the one who could defeat him. Voldemort chose me. ‘Neither can live while the other survives;’ that's what it said.”

Draco shivered. He'd been afraid of that. “So, you truly are the Wizarding World’s Savior,” he said softly.

Potter rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”

Draco looked at the wild haired boy sprawled in front of him.

What he saw nearly transfixed him while it also confused the bloody hell out of him. Blazing green eyes, that Draco was sure burned bright even during the darkest moments of battle, seemed to stare into his soul. Even sitting down on this couch, supposedly relaxed while eating Draco’s chocolates, Potter was battle ready. Draco could tell by his stiff shoulders, narrowed gaze, and magical heat emanating from Potter’s direction.

 _Constant Vigilance_.

Potter was ready for a war. And he always would be, until Voldemort was finished at least, Draco realized. While Potter had no living family members any longer, it was no secret at how Potter was protective over his close loved ones.  He knew that Potter would fight for them until his dying breath.

And gazing into that fueled stare, Draco suddenly realized how much he yearned to have that kind of confidence. If not for himself, he wanted to be near it, to bathe in that warmth and power.

That kind of yearning though; it alarmed Draco beyond belief, and for a moment he was frozen as he tried to contemplate what he was feeling.

_What is this emotion?_

Draco tried to shake the feeling off since he knew he was supposed to reply to Potter in some way. The other boy’s burning gaze cut right through to him, watching him. He hurriedly looked down.

"I wish I never had to see his face again," Draco finally said quietly.

Potter frowned. “A true follower wouldn’t say something like that,” he pointed out.

True, Draco conceded, thinking. “I guess that means I’m not one, then,” he said. He watched Potter for some kind of reaction, but the other boy only continued his study of him.

“Then, if you weren’t a true follower,” Potter said, almost hesitantly like he wasn’t sure what he was even saying. “I’d say you’re in need of making a choice then. One for yourself.”

“Oh, and what are my options, Potter?” Draco said almost angrily. “Is it limited to only His side or your precious Light side? Can’t I just be neutral and run away?”

“It’s not _my_ side. It’s Dumbledore and the Order. And there is no middle ground in this kind of war, Malfoy,” Potter answered, shaking his head. “When it comes right down to it, you’ve got to decide for yourself. Are you willing to kill muggles and those who are muggleborn, or not?”

“It’s not that simple —”

“Yes, it is!” Potter cried, sitting up straight and startling Draco. “That’s the thing, Malfoy, it is that black and white. In the end, Malfoy —”

“In the end, Potter, my family is the only thing that matters,” Draco broke in. “Whatever side wins, I honestly could give two fucks about. People are going to die either way, Potter. I don’t want my parents and I to be on that list of death’s. I just want to live,” he said, his voice broken.

Potter took a deep breath, his gaze almost twinkling familiarly.

“Everyone has the right to live, Malfoy. Whether you’re muggleborn or not, don’t you think? We’re all human. In this war, my side —as you loved to put it — is fighting to keep that right. Voldemort thinks little of the lives who follow him or don’t. He doesn’t care about you. He just wants to further his agenda.

“Do you really want to be a part of that?” Potter asked earnestly. “When the time should come, Malfoy, you’ll have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy. And you’ll have to decide that for yourself. Not your parents. Not based on your ancestors’ beliefs. But on your own terms and merits.”

“And what if I make the wrong choice?” Draco asked, his heart beating wildly. “What if I choose His side, Potter? Are you willing to kill me, the enemy?”

Draco didn’t know what possessed him to ask that question, but part of him burned to know the answer. Part of him wanted Potter to just tell him which path he should choose. Irrational as it was, Draco was tired of making these kinds of decisions for himself. He couldn’t tell what was right, or wrong. He didn’t know how to distinguish his own beliefs from his parents’.

He just wanted to live, and choose whichever side would guarantee the safety of his life and his mother’s.

But that was entirely impossible to know right now; it could go either way.

He waited for Potter’s answer with bated breath, hating himself for being desperate to know the answer.

When Potter finally answered, his words were slow and careful. “Whichever side you chose, I’d hope that you’d have made the choice for your own reasons, and not anybody else’s. And if your decision was to choose to follow Voldemort, I…” Potter’s voice trailed off brokenly. “I… would hate it, actually.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “What?”

Potter seemed surprised at his own words too, though he seemed sincere. “Malfoy, you are without a doubt the most snobbish, most spoiled and arrogant blond prat that I’ve ever met —stop scowling, you know it’s the truth — and sometimes I wonder these days if you’re just running me around the bend here for no real reason other than to get back at me for earlier. You’ve been rude and you bullied me and my friends for years, you’ve called Hermione such foul names that I’m glad she punched you third year and I hoped it hurt twice as hard as any of the hits I’ve taken at you. I’m still annoyed at the way you punched me on the train earlier this year and left me there for Tonks to find, and I still think you bloody cheat too much at Quidditch.”

“Merlin, Potter, tell me what you really think about me.”

“But,” the git said, and suddenly he was all too close to Draco’s comfort, staring at him with that earnest gaze in his eyes. “I’m positive that if we were battling each other and surrounded by Death Eaters, I don’t think I could kill you. Not on purpose, anyway,” he added quickly. “I know I wouldn’t be able to. I couldn’t kill anyone, Malfoy. I don’t even know if I can truly defeat Voldemort without really killing him, because I really don’t fancy splitting my soul like that any time soon. So, I would hope to avoid the situation altogether, really. And concerning you…”

Potter trailed off, probably realizing how much he was rambling. He quickly cleared his throat, and his next words were spoken with conviction. “I couldn’t. You’re my school rival, Malfoy. Or were, anyway. But you were never my enemy. That’s for Voldemort alone. So no, I wouldn’t be able to kill you.”

And with that bombshell, Potter stood up to leave. He grabbed his cloak, snagged one last chocolate piece from the nearly empty box, and crossed the room towards the door. Potter reached for the doorknob, but then turned and made a small smile at Draco.

“Goodnight, Malfoy. See you tomorrow in class.”

Then he walked out; leaving Draco to sit, frozen, on the sofa, with the now empty box of chocolates sitting near his lap.

 _Prat_.

* * *

May 14

 

The next day, Draco didn’t attend any of his classes. When Blaise had stopped by his bed, questioning if whatever Draco had caught was contagious, Draco had waved him off and turned over.

If developing a conscious and a new set of priorities was contagious, the world would be a much better place, Draco thought darkly.  

In reality, Draco was in mourning.

He had slept badly, although that wasn’t a new occurrence. He hadn't really slept well since he had been visited by the Dark Lord the previous summer.

Instead, Draco had spent the long hours contemplating both a moral and existential crisis overnight. He thought that he’d have come to a decision by now. Draco had been optimistic about confronting Potter at their next training with his decision ready to throw in Potter’s smug face.

But it wasn’t that simple.

A few minutes after his first class would have started, Draco finally sat up and got out of bed. He crossed over to his desk, pulled a sheet of parchment out, and sat down.

Then he began to write.

* * *

The room looked much the same as the night before, Draco saw as he entered the space he had officially dubbed as his and Potter’s. He was fully aware that the Room of Hidden Things truly didn’t belong to just one person, but Draco didn’t think he could ever look at an open space filled with large floor cushions the same way again.

Just as well, Draco thought. He noticed Potter already sitting on one of the sofa’s and eating a sandwich. After hanging his cloak by the door, Draco crossed over and sat in the sofa opposite him and picked up his own sandwich to eat.

“I figured you’d be hungry, since I didn’t see you at dinner,” Potter said, eyeing him thoughtfully. “I also thought we’d just talk today, instead of practicing any spells.”

Draco nodded, figuring as much. They had a lot to talk about.

Potter seemed to be waiting on him to speak next, which Draco thought he was fully prepared to do. But he still felt rattled from the earlier events of the day. He searched for the words that he wanted to speak, and Potter must have seen his trouble in his expression.

“Have you made your choice, then?” he prompted.

They both knew that whatever Draco spoke next would decide the rest of their fate, concerning each other. But Draco was ready. He’d come to terms with his decision earlier in the day; he’d written letters so that he could get a few affairs in order, written more letter to those who meant anything to him and stored them away for later, and destroyed evidence that the wrong side may find. None of it guaranteed a truly feasible solution, but it gave Draco piece of mind to do this at least.

All Draco had to do, now, was give Potter an official answer; a decision, Draco would later realize, that would fully bind him to Potter for the rest of their lives.

“Yes, Potter. I’ve made my decision. But first, I think you’re wrong,” Draco said softly. “I think it is between you and Voldemort, according to the prophecy, anyway. I don’t think you fully know your influence, Potter, but you have nearly thousands of people rallying behind you. Some of them have never even met you, or they don’t even know you really exist because they’re not able to put a face to the name. But it’s the same either way, Potter.

“You give people hope. Whether or not you agree with the workings of the Ministry or about pureblood policies, you only want to fight to defeat the Dark Lord. He’s the epitome of all that is evil in the wizarding world, and for you to want to defeat him not only because it is prophesized but because it’s the right thing to do…” Draco shook his head, laughing good naturedly.

“Whatever comes afterwards, people want to live in a world where it’s safe and they are free to choose for themselves. They want to wake up next to the person they love and be able to complain about how tepid their morning tea is, or how the Cannons lost another match again.”

Both boys chuckled softly, and Draco was glad that he’d put a smile on the other boy’s face.

“And I want to be able to do that, too. I want to live in a world where people are able to have their own ideals. Before this war ruins any more part of me, I need to go on believing that during a crisis, people are truly good. As horribly Hufflepuff as that makes me sound, I’m truly tired of having to use Slytherin cunning as a means to survive. It hasn’t really been working for me, anyway.”

Draco sighed, his shoulders drooping from the heavy weight that was placed there the moment his father had been sentenced to Azkaban.

“So, I’ve decided,” Draco said. “And I decided that I want V-V-Voldemort to be defeated. I want my mother safe. I don’t want to kill anyone. And I want to join with you, Potter. Not your Phoenix Order or any other rebel group. Just with you. Because I know you can defeat him, stubborn Gryffindor predisposition and all.”

And it was worth it — the late night going back and forth, the rest of the day drafting out pros and cons for either decision, the running to the Owlery and sending multiple letters in a frantic haste — all to see that broad, shining smile being given to him by Boy Wonder himself.  

Potter stood, and reached across the space between him, still wearing that beaming toothy grin that made the skin near his eyes crinkle. (He’d have a deep set of crow’s feet before he hit middle age, Draco absently thought.) Draco stood to meet him.

Then the Boy-Who-Lived shook out his hand toward the almost death eater, palm open upwards. “Harry,” he stated simply.

Draco’s eyes locked on to the open palm before rising to meet the ferocious green gaze that stared at him. He remembered their earlier truce from a few days ago; it seemed like almost a lifetime ago. He suddenly wondered whether there was too much animosity — too many curses and fistfights — between them to set aside.

But what was life without risk?

Grinning, he finally nodded in understanding.

“Draco.”

Then he took Harry’s hand in his.     

 


	5. Chapter Five

 

You’d think that after finally agreeing to a second truce and to using first names after years of hostility and holding grudges, the boys would have called it a night. But both Draco and Harry found it hard to leave after charged electricity had filled the room following Draco’s passionate, not-so-Slytherin declaration to switch sides. 

Instead, they chose to talk.

It started out as little stories traded back and forth, initially with inconsequential facts like their favorite color or preferred clothing material.

_“Forest green? How positively Slytherin, Potter. I approve.”_

_“Seriously, Malfoy? Who has a favorite type of material for clothes? You sound like a ponce.”_

_“It matters in fashionable society, you uncouth peasant.”_

The little facts eventually ended up turning into bigger, deeper stories, although they were careful to stray away from any topics that concerned a certain Dark Lord.

Rather, Draco found himself telling Pott—Harry how Lucius had beat him with his cane once, when Draco was around five years of age, for getting dirty in the gardens before an important foreign guest had arrived; or when Draco had used to chase the peacocks across the fields of the Manor, that is until he’d learned quite quickly that peacocks were vicious when provoked, and _fast_.

In return, Draco learned that while Harry wasn’t overwhelmingly afraid of dark and enclosed spaces, he wasn’t terribly fond of them either. He also learned that the reason why quickly became apparent when Harry told him of the three muggle relatives whom Harry had stayed with during his entire childhood. Draco was careful to bite his tongue against the many expletives that fought to come out, knowing that Harry wouldn’t take to them kindly. Instead, he thought up ways he’d take revenge on those wretched Dursleys if he ever encountered them.

Draco briefly wondered at the sudden protectiveness he felt over Harry for a moment, but assured himself that he had every reason to become enraged at the thought of any muggle neglecting a wizard child. Muggles really were barbaric.

After many revealing stories traded back and forth, they eventually finished and went their separate ways late into the night. The next day, instead of cold shoulders and glares, the two boys shared civilized nods before going about their routine. Few students that were near them during these encounters were a bit confused, mostly surprised at the lack of usual aggression between the two. Even Ron Weasley had a few short quips to say about Draco’s new untroubled behavior. But as Draco had walked away, he heard Harry straighten Ron out, telling him not to bother Draco as much anymore, he hadn’t done anything against them.

It was an unspoken agreement between them that they had to keep their newfound truce a secret between just them, for now. Draco didn’t want word getting out to the wrong side about his newfound allegiance to the opposite side. Harry also didn’t want any trouble for Draco, but he also wanted to keep the blond’s secret to himself and away from the world. He didn’t bother troubling himself as to wonder why he felt that way, though.

During classes and in the hallways, civilized nods were traded between them. What quickly grew to be every night, the boys would meet in the Room of Requirement at a previously agreed time and pick up right where they’d left off the night before. Days passed in this way, in which the boys usually found themselves either practicing their defensive spells or just trading more stories back and forth. The boys grew to really look forward to the latter.   

Having a limited sort of conversation that kept them away from harmful, dangerous topics, however, eventually caused the stories traded between the pair to quickly become more personal in nature.    

* * *

May 17

 

For the millionth time since shaking Harry’s hand several days ago, Draco was immensely grateful for going into that bathroom when he had. Other than the few scars he’d sustained, Draco was glad for the opportunity to laugh, smile, and just feel alive with another person. He hadn’t felt this animated since receiving his mission almost a year before.

Draco didn’t want to think about the reason _why_ , though — why his heart sped up anytime Harry smiled at him, or why he constantly had urges to ask him about his day and whether he had a fitful sleep after they saw each other.

Draco had also started to bring his books and notes with him to their trainings, to work on before Harry arrived. He’d get to the room early, ask the room for some snacks and refreshments, and then wait for Harry to eventually stumble in late. After a while, Harry started to bring his homework too. So, a few nights when the boys didn’t feel up to throwing spells at each other, they usually found themselves talking into the night while revising their notes and finishing homework.

It was an easy camaraderie that both boys mutually grew to enjoy. Even during moments like this, Draco thought, as his eyes became fixated on a drop of moisture hovering on the other boy’s lip. It must have been from when Harry had taken a sip of pumpkin juice earlier, Draco absently thought. His eyes continue to peruse the boy as Harry completed his homework.

After a few moments had passed, Harry abruptly huffed, casting aside his books and parchment before throwing his head onto the back of the sofa.

Draco watched, amused at Harry’s antics. “Tired?” he asked.

“Frustrated, more like,” Harry muttered, raking a hand down the thighs of his muggle jeans in irritation.

Draco bit his lip, his heart thumping loudly in the silence as he closed the book he had stopped reading ages ago. “Tiring day being the Chosen One?” Draco half-joked. 

Harry seemed to ponder over the question. “You could say that.”

It was such a vague answer, and even though Draco knew that he and Potter had grown closer since Draco had decided to switch sides, he was fully aware that there would always be some sort of distance between them. Draco didn’t want to think too much on why, but he still wondered about it at times — wished otherwise.  

Draco wanted to try changing that.

“Does it have something to do with your Phoenix Order?” he probed carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes, shifting to grab one of the few sandwiches that was left as he shrugged. “Not really.”

“Dumbledore?”

Harry started, quickly glancing away as he chewed. “Yeah…”

“His hand is looking worse,” Draco said, trying for a nonchalant tone but not really confident that it worked. “You’ve been late to our meetings for the last few days, too. Does it have something to do with Dumbledore?”

Potter shook his head no at first, then nodded, then shook his head again. “No? Yes? I-I can’t really tell you.”

Draco felt really upset. “Can’t, or won’t? Is it something that Granger and the Weasel can know?”

“Well, yes, but —”

“So, if I’m on your side then, why can’t you tell me?” Draco demanded, his eyes narrowed. “Unless you don’t really trust me like you said you did.”

Harry looked up sharply. “No, no! Of course, I trust you.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“It’s not — I can’t… look, not even the Order knows about this. No one does, apart from me, Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione.” Harry sighed heavily, looking begrudging even to Draco. “I mean, I would like to tell you, but it’s really secret and I can’t risk telling too many people about it. I can’t risk it getting out.”

“To the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, you mean,” Draco deadpanned.

“To anyone. It’s dark magic that is better left forgotten,” Harry said, his eyes pleading for Draco to understand.

Draco huffed, more annoyed than anything. “Fine,” he said. “If it’s really that secret, I suppose it is a good thing you’re not jeopardizing telling others about it. Still. I wish I could help you.” That last part was said so softly, Draco wanted to rein it back in.

Harry only looked at him, bemused.

“Well, you have already helped. I told Dumbledore everything you told me, and he said he was going to tell the Order so that everyone could be prepared.”

“You told him about me?!” Draco cried, horrified.

“No! No,” Harry quickly said. “I… just told him that I found out from one of my visions.”

“Visions?” Draco questioned, calming down but still alarmed at the topic they’d decided to have.

Harry grinned a bit sheepishly. “Er, yeah, I’ve um, had this connection with Voldemort for a while now and so sometimes I… see things.”

“’See things’?” Draco asked slowly, wary.

Harry nodded, then proceeded to explain to Draco about the dreams and visions he’d had since fourth year, about the attack on Mr. Weasley, and the range of emotions he would feel from Voldemort all last year. He even told Draco about his failed Occlumency lessons with Snape.

“So,” Draco said once Harry had finished. “Then Remedial Potions?”

Harry laughed shortly. “A cover for the Occlumency lessons.”

Draco nodded, and then leaned over to pour some tea into a china cup on the table, his hands too busy to concentrate on anything else. Draco silently ached as he felt himself brimming with the knowledge that Harry had just willingly divulged to him. He felt both pleased and horrified that Harry told him of his connection with the Dark Lord. He didn’t know what to do with this information yet, but he was fully aware of how completely charmed he felt at Harry’s ability to surprise him time and time again.

He wanted to ask the other boy more questions about his connection with the Dark Lord, too, but he could see the haggard look on Harry’s face. Between whatever he was working on with Dumbledore, nightly trainings with Draco, and his daily classwork, it was no wonder that Harry looked so fatigued.

“Hey,” Draco said softly, sitting back with his tea in his hand. “When is the last time you played Quidditch with your House?”

Harry looked almost grateful at the subject change. “Not for a while, honestly. I’ve still got detentions with Snape every morning, which is usually when Ron and them like to have a scrimmage of sorts. I used to go in the evenings by myself, but well.” Draco knew what Harry wasn’t saying: he was spending his evenings with Draco instead.

Draco sighed softly. “You know, Harry, you don’t have to spend every free evening that you have with me,” he told him. “You are allowed a break once in a while.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not — I mean, I do like spending time with you. It’s just…I guess, I feel like I’ve got more important things going on right now. I’m helping Dumbledore, and I’ve been helping you since you switched sides. And quidditch, yeah it’s all fun and relaxing, but —”

“Fly with me tomorrow,” Draco interrupted.

Harry’s eyes grew round behind his glasses. “What? Like one-on-one?”

Draco nodded. “Sure. A Seeker’s game between us tomorrow on the pitch. That should help you relax some.”

Harry gave him a bright grin. “Really, Malfoy, you actually feel ready to take me on by yourself?” he said, raising an eyebrow half-mockingly.

Draco’s lip quirked to the side. “Please, Potter, I just wanted an excuse so I could beat you tomorrow,” he drawled. “Also, you’re quite boring when you’re tired.”

Harry snorted, but he gave Draco a crooked half smile. “Boring, am I? My, I wonder what that would feel like.” He let out a laugh. Draco gave small grin too.  “But you know, there are other ways to relax other than Quidditch,” Harry added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Draco’s eyes widened, and a flush crept to his cheeks. “Oh, really?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah. You never answered my question the other day, about whether you’re with Parkinson or not.”

“Why the sudden interest again, Potter?” he asked in a drawl, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh, back to Potter now, is it?”

“It is when you’re asking ridiculous questions all of a sudden,” Draco said, shrugging.

Harry frowned. “Is it really that ridiculous? I mean, that’s all my mates love to talk about. In the dorm, someone is always talking about who their recent shag is. Well, except for Hermione and Ron. Unless you count that whole Lavender thing…”

“So, you’re wanting to know who I’m currently shagging then?” Draco asked, strangely amused.

Harry flushed slightly. “Well, yeah, I mean — I’m just curious if you’ve been able to, you know… what with everything.”

Draco smiled softly, shaking his head. “Eloquent as always, Potter,” he chuckled. “But to answer your statement, if that was one, no I am not currently shagging anyone. Sorry to disappoint.”

Harry laughed darkly. “No, I guess you wouldn’t, what with…” He waved his hand around vaguely as if to mean something.

Draco stilled, taking a sip of from his teacup as he fought to appear nonchalant. “Quite,” he stated simply.

“I’m not either,” Harry admitted abruptly. “I mean, not since last year.”

“With Chang?” Draco asked, keeping his face passive. “I heard she broke up with you at Madame Puddifoot’s.”

Harry snorted. “Hardly. We did have an argument there, though. We obviously broke up, but it was later.”

“No late-night excursions with girl Weasley, then?” Draco inquired, half-joking.

“What’s with your obsession with Ginny and me?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I told you that I only think of her like a sister.”

“Well, she obviously did not get that memo,” Draco drawled, shifting slightly with uneasiness. “She’s been after you for years, in case you hadn’t noticed. In fact, you have your own bloody fan club that’s been throwing themselves at you all year, too.”

“I’ve been a bit busy,” Harry scowled, rolling his eyes. “Besides, half those girls are too young for me anyway.”

“A year or two younger is not a serious issue,” Draco replied absently. “Astoria Greengrass is two years below us and she’s been trying to get my attention all year.”

“Really?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed. “Why haven’t you taken her up on it then?”

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but really he wanted to kick himself before for not changing the subject earlier. “I’ve got my own set of priorities, too, Harry. Although age isn’t all that high up on the list.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, leaning forward in interest. “What do you like in a girl?”

Now Draco did roll his eyes, but decided to play along. “Well, whoever it is, I’d like it if they were fit, for one.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Fit? Like they play Quidditch?”

“Sure,” Draco agreed, amused. “They’d have to know how to handle the broom the right way,” he said with a low chuckle.

Harry blushed, quickly understanding Draco’s double entendre. “O-Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Draco smirked, finding himself enjoying the conversation despite himself. “I like passion, too,” he decided to add, more seriously. “A partner who is passionate about their goals, to want to get ahead in life. I think that’s a great quality in a person, either way. But I think I’d quite like to have that kind of passion directed towards me too, in a relationship.”

Harry was nodding as he spoke, seeming contemplative. “Yeah, I can understand that.”

“And you, Potter?” Draco asked, wanting to kick himself again but unable to stop himself from asking. “What do you find attractive?”

“Well, I guess the usual,” Harry said, almost noncommittedly. “I mean, I hope they’d be smart, cute… a good flyer, too, I suppose.”

“So, you like quidditch players?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. But I wouldn’t want someone that cried a lot, too. I don’t know if you remember Cho Chang, but she had been with Cedric before. So, erm, she cried a lot.”

Draco winced. “Yeah, I could imagine that.”

“I don’t think I’m too good at emotions, either,” Harry admitted. “I wish girls would just say the truth of what they mean, so I wouldn’t have to guess at what they’re thinking. Like with Hermione. She doesn’t do that.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “So, you and Granger…?”

“No!” Harry gasped, wide eyed. “No, I mean… she’s brilliant, yeah, but no way. It’s like with Ginny, she’s just a sister. Any guy would be lucky to have her, though,” he added, probably thinking of Weasley.

Draco almost snorted at the thought of the Weasel and Granger, wondering if they’d ever admit to the unresolved tension between them. Even down in the dungeons, everyone could feel the sexual frustration between those two.

“So, what’s stopping you, then?” Draco asked. “So many girls throwing themselves at you, and you haven’t even taken one up on an offer?”

Harry squirmed in his seat. “Well, no, I guess I haven’t. I’m not really one to just jump into a relationship like that, I don’t think.” He seemed to pause for a moment, considering.

“Not one for one-offs?” Draco further probed when the silence stretched on.

“No. I mean, it would have to depend on the girl, right?” Harry asked. “I mean, if the circumstances were right, then yeah, I might. But right now —” Harry seemed to huff, throwing his head back once more, thinking hard. “I guess… I’m too busy to be in some relationship anyway. I mean, I’d love to have that kind of connection with someone right now. It’d take the load of stress off, too, I think,” he added, grinning ruefully. “But I think it’d be too dangerous right now. If what you said is true, I don’t think I could get that close to someone right now. Not if it means risking them to Voldemort. He’s already used people I love against me. I wouldn’t want to put some girl’s life at risk like that.”

The conversation had taken a quick dark turn, which is exactly what Draco had wanted to prevent. He didn’t like thinking of Harry being upset when he was with him. He’d hoped that Harry would be able to relax around him during these times in their space.

Draco quickly cast around for something to lighten the mood again.

“Well,” he eventually said. “My last one-off with a girl was frightful, actually, so I don’t think you’re missing out on much.”

Harry laughed, and Draco was happy to see the smile on the other boy’s face.  

“Well, I guess not then, according to you. Have you ever…?” Harry trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable now.

Draco smirked. “Have I ever had sex, I’m guessing is your question.” Harry blushed but nodded his assent. “Well, I’ve done stuff with one girl — Pansy, actually, during fourth year. It wasn’t much, be we both agreed that it was substandard. We’re still friends.” Draco bit his lip, considering then. “But I have done more with someone else.”

“Oh?” Harry said, his expression genuinely curious, and something else. “Someone else then?”

Draco nodded, and took a deep breath. “With a boy, actually.” 

Harry’s eyes widened hugely. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know…”

“…What?” Draco said, half amused.

Harry quickly cleared his throat, looking down hurriedly. “Oh, well, I didn’t know that you liked blokes.”

“Is that a problem?” Draco asked, trying hard not to show how nervous he was at Harry’s answer.

“Erm, I guess — I mean, no, I don’t have a problem with that. You like who you, uh, well, like.” His voice came out stammering, and if Draco’s heart hadn’t been racing with nerves, he thought he’d feel ridiculously enamored with the git.

“Good,” Draco said. “I mean, I don’t feel like I need your approval. But I’m glad that you don’t seem to be bothered by it.”

Harry nodded, still slightly flushed. “Yeah. And uh, no, it doesn’t bother me. But, then who…?” He asked softly, hesitantly.

“Which guy?” Draco said, feeling pleased. Harry nodded. “It was last year, with Blaise Zabini.”

“Oh?” Harry said, and his eyes glinted strangely. He cleared his throat. “And, how far did you go with him?”

“Well, he’d help me out with the occasional hand job, and I’d show my thanks my blowing him a few times. But then term ended before we could do anything else.” Draco was amused at Harry’s odd interest.

“And, you’re still…?”

“No,” Draco answered. “Not really. It only happened a few times last year. Then during the summer, after I was brought to the Dark Lord, I had to cut things off. It was only ever casual between us, anyway.”

“I’d heard he was with one of the Greengrass girls?” Harry offered.

“Daphne Greengrass, our year,” Draco nodded. “Yes, Blaise never did like to set limits on himself like that. He also had a certain type.” He brushed his blond hair away from his face, smirking.

If it was possible, Harry’s face blushed brighter. “Then, um, you only fancy blokes?”

“I like specific attributes,” Draco attempted to explain, locking his gaze with Harry’s. “But I’ve only found those certain traits to reside in one person, who just so happens to be a boy. But, I’m fairly sure I’m open to both genders.”

“So, you like someone?”

Draco smiled softly. “Only recently. Nothing can come of it, though, what with everything going on. I don’t think he’d have time for me.” The last part was said so quietly, Harry had to strain to hear.

“Anyway,” Draco said more loudly into the room. “When would I have time to do anything when you have me practicing every evening with you, anyway?”

Harry flushed, but sat up straighter. “Hey, you’re the one asking me to.” But to Draco, he seemed pleased about it for some reason or other. “I’ve just been waiting for you to finish your work before I start throwing spells at you.”   

Draco smirked and stood up to walk across the room into position. “I’ll trounce you, Potter.”

Harry grinned, following him. “You can try, Malfoy.”

As the duel began and Draco began to gracefully dodge Harry’s offensive spells, he found himself smiling hugely the entire time.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

May 18

 

Draco leaned against the broom shed, wearing his quidditch leathers and his old Seeker’s uniform that he hadn’t worn all year. He looked out towards the field, thinking back to the last time he had played a Quidditch game. If he thought hard enough, Draco could remember his first time being out here in the field, his first game against Harry in second year. And the last one in fifth year.

“Hey, been waiting long?”

Draco turned to see Harry jogging up beside him, wearing his own quidditch uniform and bracers, and holding a snitch in his right hand with his broom in the other. He was smiling at Draco, excitement dancing in his eyes.

Draco smiled back at him. “So, what do I get when I win?” he asked.

Harry’s smile turned sly. “That confident that you’ll beat me?”

“That certain,” he answered with a raised eyebrow.

“And what would you want?”

Draco pretended to think. “What about that cloak of yours?”

Harry glanced up, startled. “My cloak?”

“Yeah, you always bring it to our meetings before you just drop it onto the chair. I want to know what it does. What makes it so special that you seem to take it everywhere?”

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before he slowly nodded. “Yeah, alright. That’s if you win though.”

Draco smirked. “Do you know what you’d want?”

“Hmm... let me think about it," Harry said, biting his lip. They started off into the direction of the field, both of their brooms in their hands.

“Well, don’t bother much with it, because I’m going to win,” Draco said, mounting his broom once they’d reached the middle of the pitch.

Harry chuckled, straddling his own. “Yeah, right, Malfoy, we’ll see.” Then he let go of the snitch, counted five seconds, and they both pushed up hard off the ground.

As soon as he was high in the sky, Draco felt himself relax into the feel of the wind in his hair. It felt like it’d been ages since he had last ridden his broom, and he felt near to regret at not being able to fly all year.

Both Harry and Draco decided to run a few laps around the stands first, adjusting themselves to flying in the air after it being a while for both of them. He saw Harry do a few flips and dives after a while, and he yearned to take a pause and just look at Harry. For all of their rivalry between them, Draco could admit that he admired Harry’s flying. It’s why he loved playing against him during Quidditch so much.

After about a half hour had passed, Draco eventually saw a glimpse of gold and immediately shot after it. Not a moment later, he felt Harry’s presence closing in next to him and he looked over. Both seeing and hearing Harry’s gleeful shout at flying next to him at breakneck speed caused a bright grin to split over his own face. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The snitch dodged them for a few minutes, twisting and turning mid-air. At one point, Harry had just been about to catch it, but the snitch spun away at the last second and Harry’s hand closed over empty space.

“Bloody hell!” he shouted.

Draco laughed and urged his broom faster.

On and on, they flew. Until finally, Draco glimpsed the snitch within diving distance as he hovered near one of the hoops. He looked over at Harry, who was still circling the pitch a good distance away.

Draco smirked, and quickly dove down to claim his prize. Harry was too far away to reach the snitch in time, and he had just pulled up beside Draco as the Slytherin’s hand curled around the fluttering ball.

“You got it!” Harry cried with a grin, brushing aside his own loss against Draco. The blond gave him a big grin, holding the golden snitch aloft in his left hand.

They both lowered their brooms to the ground, dismounted, and began heading towards the showers after Draco sent the snitch back into its box.

The boys laughed about the Seeker’s game as they both undressed and walked into their separate stalls, commentating on the highlights of a brilliant Seeker’s game. In the showers, after scrubbing every inch of dirt and grass that managed to land in his hair, Draco dried off and got dressed using some spare clothes from his locker. He heard Harry finishing his shower, too, and decided to wait for him outside near the lockers.

He was sitting on the bench, waiting, when Harry walked in toweling his hair dry.

“So,” Draco said conversationally, averting his eyes politely as Harry got dressed. If he peeked to admire the other seeker’s form, however, Harry was none the wiser. “The cloak?” he prompted him.

The other boy rolled his eyes, tugging on his muggle jeans and zipping them closed before facing Draco. “Yeah, alright. What did you want to know?”

“What is it? I know it’s not a normal cloak, otherwise you wouldn’t take great care of making sure I left first before you put it on. I’m guessing it has some sort of magical properties.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, it’s actually a gift from my dad,” he said, brushing his fingers through his wild wet mane to try and tame it down. To no avail.

“Oh,” Draco said distractedly. “Then how…?”

“My dad gave it to Dumbledore, who gave it to me my first year.” An impish grin found its way on Harry’s face. “Actually, I’ll show you what the cloak does tonight. Meet me in the room at 7.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but nodded.

The boys decided to walk together across the field back towards the castle. It wasn’t until they realized they were on the front steps when they paused, glancing around to see if anyone had spotted them.

“You go first,” Draco said. “I’ll wait a while, then I’ll go in.”

Harry threw him a smile, before turning in to the castle. Draco watched him walk away silently before waiting precisely five minutes, then walked inside towards the direction of his dorms.

* * *

 

It was a quarter passed seven, and Draco was working on his Transfigurations homework that was due the next day. He was nearly finished and he decided to ask the room for a tray of biscuits that he could munch on while he continued.

He heard a soft creak, and glanced up quickly to see the door to the Room open and then close. But no one walked in.

Draco stood up, suspicious as he eyed the doorway. He pulled out his wand and cast a quick _Tempus_. Smoky numbers formed into the space above him, reading out 7:21 in the evening. Draco cursed.

Where in the bloody hell was —

“ _Malfoy!_ ”  

Draco jerked, whirling around to point his wand threateningly into the space behind him. He heard cackling laughter sound in the small space before the air moved and a wild mane of messy black hair appeared. Eyes glittering with mischief peered up at him as Harry removed his cloak and settled it onto the couch.

“Potter?” he gasped, his heart still racing.

Harry laughed, barely seeming to contain himself. “Hey, Draco,” he greeted, grinning.

Draco wanted to huff, but he did lower his wand and looked at the cloak on the couch. “Potter, is that an invisibility cloak?” he questioned, and Harry nodded. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never had one for myself. I had asked for one from my father once. They’re supposed to be rare.”

“So, I’ve heard,” Harry said, laughter dying down.

“Can I…?” he asked, burning to contain his curiosity. Harry wasn’t fooled though.

“Sure, go ahead and try it.”

 They passed the next few minutes hiding different body parts of Draco until both boys were crying with laughter, so much so that they collapsed onto the sofas in a fit of giggles.

“To think that all this time,” Draco chuckled, half glaring at the boy next to him. “And isn’t this the same cloak you had on the train at the beginning of term?” Harry nodded, still laughing. “This is how you got away with all of that sneaking around the castle, isn’t it? Do you know how many times I tried to follow you in this bloody castle whenever I knew you were sneaking around? If I had had this, I’ve wouldn’t have gotten caught so many times and thrown into detention.”

Harry was very amused. “Not just that, though,” he said. “Remind me to show you my map sometime.”

“Your map?” Draco asked, his expression incredulous at the boy next to him.

Harry chuckled, then proceeded to explain about the Marauder’s map to Draco.

“Hell, Harry,” Draco said when the other boy had finished. “If I had these two things, I would’ve been invincible in Slytherin House. Merlin, in all of Hogwarts, even.”

Harry chuckled at him, and settled into the sofa, throwing his arm up to rest on the back. “Yeah, the cloak and the map have been very handy over the years. Saved my life a few times.”

Draco looked over at him, half-scowling. “If I didn’t know any better, Harry, I would’ve said you’re one hell of a lucky guy. But I suppose it’s a good thing you have so much help. Between the cloak, the map, your friends, the D.A. group you told me about, and Dumbledore, I think you really do stand a chance against the Dark Lord.” His words were wistful but sincere.

Harry just laughed softly. “Yeah, Ron and Hermione really are a great help. Plus, I’ve got you, too,” he said, Harry’s eyes steady on his face and his mouth curled up into a small smile that did strange things to Draco’s stomach. “I’m really glad we decided to do this,” he added in a soft voice, his hand outstretched on the couch towards Draco.

His fingers were fiddling with the sleeve of Draco’s sweater, which was also splayed out between them on the back of the sofa. Once inch more and they’d be holding hands…

Harry shifted, his body suddenly turning entirely towards Draco. He’d moved a few inches closer to Draco, at the same time, and the Slytherin could practically feel the magical heat emanating between them. Draco felt a light touch and he glanced over to see Harry’s palm resting gently against his hand, not quite holding it, but the skins brushed softly together like a caress. The touch felt like a small link to reality, as if the rest of Hogwarts seemed to slowly disappear around him as the seconds passed. Their eyes locked.

Draco’s heart thumped, and the beating sound seemed loud to the blond’s ears. He felt his mouth go dry, and he wet his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. He watched as Harry’s eyes narrowed at the small movement, his green eyes growing darker the longer he stared at Draco’s mouth.

He didn’t know how much time had passed as they continued to stare at each other, but Draco slowly soon became aware of how loud his panting was becoming. He closed his parted lips, swallowing to clear the small lump in his throat. He saw green eyes shift lower, staring heatedly, and then Harry licked his own lips. He moved closer.

Draco’s heart raced as a burst of warmth slid over his skin. It was addicting, Draco thought, as he felt Harry’s smooth breath wash over him.

Harry was leaning over him now, their chests nearly touching, their eyes unmoving from each other’s. Draco felt a soft caress near his cheek suddenly, and a lock of hair he hadn’t noticed had fallen was smoothly brushed aside. Draco expected Harry to let go then and sit back, but the boy didn’t move away from him. Instead, after the lock was settled back in its place, the velvet touch of Harry’s hand stayed rested on his cheek. The warmth from Harry’s skin on his was captivating. Draco nearly moaned as his senses were assaulted with everything that was Harry: Harry’s smell, his touch, his eyes, his magic — it all burned into Draco in the most delicious way. He nearly wanted to arch up closer into that heat, craving more of that rousing warmth, but the hand on Draco’s cheek stilled him.

Without thinking, Draco turned his head slightly and pressed his cheek softly back against Harry’s hand. There was a gasp; Draco’s eyes opened — when had they closed? — and molten gray eyes clashed with burning emeralds.        

“Harry,” Draco said softly, almost wantonly. Draco would be ashamed of himself later, but right now he was yearning for that glowing warmth to claim him everywhere, inside and over his skin. Draco was quickly growing addicted to Harry Potter’s magic, and he was positively glad for it; there was no better way to suffer than to burn from all of that green-fired passion.

As Draco was thinking on how to pull the other boy closer, Harry’s eyes slowly began to clear.

He sat back suddenly, ripping his hand away from the other boy’s cheek. Face pink and the heat in the green eyes quickly cooling until they grew panicked, Harry threw an alarmed, almost distraught look at Draco as he quickly stood from the couch. He grabbed his cloak quickly, accidently knocking over the tray of biscuits in his hurry. Both boys paid it no mind.

Harry quickly walked away towards the door, then stopped suddenly and turned. His gaze seemed to be avoiding Draco but his mouth opened to speak. Nothing came out.

Draco wanted to say so many things in the silence. _Stop. Harry, come back. Don’t go._

But his limbs felt frozen, and he watched helplessly as Harry paused near the doorway. A moment of hope passed, and then he watched as Harry shook his head once, as if throwing away whatever thought had tried to enter, and he opened the door. Then Harry fled, shutting the door with a hard click.

Draco stared at the doorway; bewildered, aroused and not a little scared. He sat for moment, trying to gather his bearings.

_What just happened?_

The question ran around Draco’s mind a few times, but nothing seemed to make any sense.

Eventually, he straightened up and stood. He grabbed his things and stuffed them into his bookbag. He ignored the state of his cock, which had gone fully hard and was pressing firmly against his slacks in a painful way, and he finally left the room to head towards his dorm.

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to think.

He decided to go to bed.

That night was the first night Draco Malfoy dreamed of Harry Potter. 


	7. Chapter Seven

The first night Draco dreamt of Harry changed everything.

At first, he didn’t even realize he was dreaming because he was still laying down in his dorm. Draco sat up, vaguely wondering why the walls of his room looked different.

Then the surroundings changed and Draco was walking along a dark path into the middle of the Forbidden Forest. He was looking for something, he knew he was. He started to get frustrated when he couldn’t find it, and upset that he didn’t know what it was he was searching for.

He heard crying then — soft, anguished sobs that tore at Draco’s heartstrings. He followed the sound down the pathway until he had to stop at a fork in the path. He looked both ways, trying to discern which one he should take. Both paths that split looked completely identical, so there was no way for him to know which path was better or not.

Should he just pick one?

“ _Draco_.”

Draco turned, looking into the darkness. He saw movement right before a figure came closer, the man’s form slowly illuminated by a hidden light source. Draco’s eyes went round.

“Harry?”

Then it was just Draco and Harry, both wearing their school robes with house scarves knotted around their necks. The air grew cold, and Draco could see his breath form a cloud as snow began to fall in tiny flakes.

“ _You came back_.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “I never left. You did.”

Dream-Harry shook his head. “ _You left me. How could you? Draco, you left me behind_.”

Draco felt tears streaming down his face, then, and a gaping hole filled the place his heart should have been. He gasped at the pain tearing through him, and clutched a hand towards his chest.

“Harry?” he cried brokenly, staring at the boy in front of him with messy black hair, wearing robes that were loose and didn’t quite fit right on his lean body. “What…?”

“ _We were so happy, Draco. So happy_.”

Draco was confused by Dream-Harry’s words. What was he talking about? What was going on? Draco’s eyes searched Dream-Harry’s for answers. Grey eyes met green.

Then suddenly, he knew. He knew why he was dreaming of Harry. He knew who he was, what he was. The realization hit him in waves. _I am gay. I’m gay for him_. It hit him with such blinding clarity that it both terrified and amazed him.

Then Draco was falling to the ground, tears still streaming down his face. He looked up, and saw Dream-Harry above him. Dream-Harry was holding him close, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand.

“ _You left me, Draco. For such a long time_.”

Draco cried out, helpless in the night.

“ _It’s alright, Draco. Please, don’t cry. I’m alright_.”  Dream-Harry smiled a tearful smile at him. Then he lowered his face until he was kissing Draco, his lips so gentle, it hurt Draco’s heart. Those beautiful lips caressed Draco’s so softly; it contradicted the force that nearly blinded Draco’s body with its ferocious heat.

And Draco was burning. Burning. It was so hot. Everywhere. Everything was on fire. Flames. Red flashes.

Heat searing. Into him. Around him. Everywhere.

Hot. Hot. Heat!

Fire! Green fire!

“Harry!” Draco screamed, thrashing around in his sheets.

He sat up in his bed, fully awake. Draco looked around, his breath escaping him in painful, burning pants. He blinked, then realized that he was still crying. His face was wet with his cold tears and he quickly swiped the back of his hand against his eyes.

It was a dream, Draco realized. A horrible, nightmarish dream.  

Draco wiped his face again, and then settled back into the sheets. He pulled the covers up to his chin and turned to his side. He curled up in a tight ball.

Drifting off again, he vowed to forget about Harry and stupid kisses and tears.

 

* * *

 

Draco wouldn’t see Harry for several days after their last meeting on Sunday. They both still attended their classes, so Draco did see him when they sat for Transfigurations, Potions and in other classes they shared. But Harry had entirely ignored him during these times, and in the hallways too. Anywhere Draco went, Harry would either ignore him or turn away quickly out of whatever hallway he was about to enter when he saw Draco.

It hurt Draco, he was surprised to admit. Never had Harry ignored him this much in all their years at Hogwarts. Draco would have welcomed it earlier in the term, but not now.

It was sort of strange, seeing Harry every night for only just a week, then spending a few days without any attention from him, not even a look.

One week. Seven nights.

That was how long it took for Draco to fully realize how utterly broken he was without Harry Potter.

At first, Draco hadn’t noticed it. The day after they had gone flying, Draco had walked into breakfast and had tried to catch Potter’s eyes. He tried again in their first class together, then in the next, and then in the hallways. After several tries throughout the day, Draco finally realized that he was being rebuffed.

By Harry Potter.

And it infuriated him.

He waited in the Room of Hidden Things until it was half passed nine. He waited for Potter to show, for the door to open and that stupid messy black hair to pop its way through the doorway. But nothing happened. He waited, and waited, and all the while he raged.

He stood up and threw their small table against the wall, tore apart the cushions of the sofa, pushed the bookshelves over until all of the books had spilled out. He raged and raged, for the entire night. He screamed. He yelled. He cursed. He cried.

He cried big, fat tears as he eventually collapsed onto the floor of the room, surrounded by white plush feathers from the torn cushions. He felt a gaping hole fill his chest, not unlike the one he had dreamt about the night before. Draco clutched his hand over it, gripping his robes painfully. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to take his shirt off and see blood coursing through a gaping wound where his heart should have been.

It hurt so much. Draco wanted it to stop. He wanted to close his eyes, and just hide away from the world. Just hide in the darkness.

Whenever his eyes were closed though, all he saw was Harry hovering over him, touching his face, gazing at him with that green fire that threatened to consume him.

And he wept. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t stop. The tears just kept flowing, and he didn’t know what to do to make them stop.

He lay there, curled up, hand clutched to his chest as he sobbed into the night.

Hours passed until Draco finally blinked his crusty eyelids open. His throat was raw, and his face felt disgusting. He sat up when the pain finally subsided a bit. The hole was still there, tender and open. But he could walk. And he walked right out of the messed, broken room.

The next night, when Draco had returned, their room was back to normal. The pillows were intact, the table unbroken, and the bookshelves filled with books.

Draco had walked over numbly, sat on the sofa, and had waited. Hoping to see Harry walk in after such a dreadful two whole days of ignoring him.

He’d sent him a note at lunch, asking if he wanted to meet Draco tonight at their usual time. He saw Harry receive it. Saw him open the note. Draco had waited to see if Harry would look up at him.

_Damnit Harry, look at me. Look at me!_

Harry hadn’t looked up though. He’d crumpled the note and thrown it into his pocket. Then he’d faced the Weasley girl next to him, who was giggling as she talked to him. He smiled at her, and laughed loudly at something she said. Then, they’d stood together and left the Great Hall.

When Draco would look at him later, Harry continued to ignore Draco for the rest of the day.

Draco still hoped. He was such a bloody fool, but he hoped it was just a front and that Harry would walk in. He couldn’t bear the thought of Harry going through all of this effort to ignore him after he had told Draco that he hadn’t minded his sexual orientation. Harry had listened to him, they had talked to each other. Harry had inspired him and Draco had pledged his loyalty to _Harry_.  

Any minute now. Harry would walk in; with his green eyes focused on Draco as he joined him on the couch, ruffling up his nest of hair, and turning his beaming smile on the blond.

Any minute. Like right now. _Right now._

 _Now_.

But Harry didn’t walk in.

And he wouldn’t show, not for a total of five days.

* * *

May 24  

 

Draco should’ve known that nothing ever went right where it concerned Potter.

He hadn’t even planned it, really. Draco had just walked out of potions class, and usually Harry would’ve been long gone by the time Draco had left the room. But as Draco was walking into the hallway, he glimpsed messy black hair.

Harry was walking with his sidekicks in the hall, just a few feet away from Draco.

Just looking at them, laughing and talking like it was just another normal day; the sight of them happy together… Harry happy without him, like their truce had been nothing. Like their friendship and Draco swearing his loyalty to Harry — like it was all nothing.

Draco didn’t even know what was happening until he was too close to stop. All he knew was that he was absolutely fed up with Harry ignoring him. He needed to get the prat’s attention somehow.

His shoulder shoved hard into Harry’s as he stormed by, causing Harry’s bag and books to spill onto the floor.

Weasley was the first one to react. “Oi, Malfoy! Watch where you’re going, Ferret!”

Draco ignored him, eyes solely on Harry as the boy gathered his supplies.

“Hey, Malfoy! _Malfoy!_ What, you deaf now?”

Draco bristled.

Why wasn’t Harry looking at him?

“Potter.”

“Malfoy, get your pointy Ferret face out of here already. Can’t you tell when you’re not wanted?” Weasley sneered.

“Ron, Harry, let’s go. We’ll be late to lunch.”

“Potter,” Draco said again.

Harry stood up, but his eyes avoided Draco’s. His eyes stuck to the ground as he slid his bag back onto his shoulder.

“Ron, let’s just go,” Harry said, voice entirely devoid of emotion.

“You’re just going to let the git walk away like that, after he pushed you?”

“Ron, just leave it.”

“Potter.”

“Fine, mate, whatever you say. Still wish I could take a crack at him, though.”

“Harry, hurry, we’ll be late.”

“ _Potter_.”

“What!?” Harry yelled, whirling around. He still wouldn’t meet Draco’s eyes and he stared right passed him over his left shoulder.

Flushing, Draco glared at him. “Are you too high and mighty now to even spare a second for us lower folk?” he spat, willing his voice to remain steady.

“He wouldn’t spare anything for you!” the Weasel sneered, taking one step forward. Draco continued to ignore him  

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry said.

“I want you to look at me!” Draco shouted, and his voice echoed through the hallway.

He dismissed Weasley’s spluttering and Granger’s narrowed stare, his eyes only focused on Harry’s — if they would look at him.

“Harry, mate, what is he talking about?”

“Ron, listen, we should probably be going now,” Granger was saying, shifting her eyes from Draco to Harry.

“What? And leave Harry with _him_?” Weasley demanded.

“No, Ron, I’m coming,” Harry sighed angrily, turning his back on Draco. The Golden Trio started walking away towards the Great Hall.

_No!_

Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling until he stopped. “Potter, you fucking prat, don’t you dare walk away —”

“Stop it!” Harry yelled suddenly, tearing his arm away from Draco and shoving him backwards. “Leave me the fuck alone, Malfoy!”

“No, Potter,” Draco said, eyes pleading to understand. “You think you can get away with ignoring me all week —”

“Don’t you get it? Just fuck _off_ , Malfoy!” Harry hissed, his eyes finally meeting Draco’s. The blond fought back a recoil at the irritation in his green gaze. “I can’t… just…! Leave me alone,” he sighed angrily. “ _Please_.”

With one last glare, Harry marched away. The other two soon followed.

And Draco could only stare after them, wondering when everything had gone bloody wrong.

* * *

May 24   Just after midnight

 

Draco blinked and he sat up.

Trees surrounded him, darkness covered overhead like a blanket, and there was a faint rustling in the distance. Draco looked around, and realized that he was laying down on the ground. Specifically, he was laying in the same position he found himself in every night — curled up right at the fork in the pathway, where two identical paths split.

Draco sighed, standing up, and waited. Sure enough, he felt a presence close by. He turned, and saw Dream-Harry smile sadly at him.

“ _You came back_.”

Draco sighed again, suddenly tired. Could he be tired in a dream? He certainly felt it.

A ghostly presence pressed against his cheek, and Draco pressed right back into it.

“ _Draco_.”

“Harry.”

“ _How could you?_ ”

Draco wanted to cry. It was always the same.

Every night.

He dreamt of Dream-Harry saying the same things every time. He had tried asking, questioning Dream-Harry about what he was talking about. He had tried yelling, screaming, raging against him like how he wanted to in reality. Nothing worked. Nothing changed.

With almost a whole week now of dreaming this same nightmare, Draco was just tired. His emotions and nerves felt worn, and his heart felt weak with the gaping hole filling most of it. Draco wanted to cry. But he had cried nearly all weak, and it had solved nothing. His Malfoy pride was in tatters, but Draco didn’t care.

In the days that Harry had ignored him, Draco felt like he was in limbo. He had stopped working on the cabinet, staying true to the fact that he had truly changed sides. He no longer wanted to be the Dark Lord’s pawn. And while he wanted to save his mother and father, he was too much of a coward to change his mind once again. He felt like he had no fight in him anymore. He didn’t care. About the war. His mission. Any of it.

He just wanted Harry back.

That thought had angered, horrified, and embarrassed him earlier in the week. But after his nightly dreams and the pained winces he’d had to hide after seeing Potter in classes, Draco had finally admitted how much the green-eyed git meant to him.

He didn’t know if it was love that he felt towards Harry Potter. He barely knew what that kind of emotion felt like.

But hell if he knew what else it could be, this painful thing that tore him up inside. He wanted to be rid of it, yet at the same time he yearned to keep it. He didn’t want to let Harry go. He couldn’t. In the week that they had been together as friends, it had been an otherworldly experience. It was the happiest he had felt in a long time, and Draco wouldn’t have changed anything even if he wanted to.   

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Draco whispered into the night as Dream-Harry held him. Oh, how he wished that Harry would hold him like this in reality. “I’m sorry, Harry. For everything. For hurting you. For scaring you away. It’s all my fault. I’d take it all away if I could.” His whispers turned into sobs, and he clutched Dream-Harry tighter to him.

“ _Draco. Why?_ ”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“ _Draco_.”

“Please come back, Harry,” he sobbed, though his eyes were dry, even in his dreams because of so many tears that had already been shed. He didn’t have the energy.

“ _Draco_.”

“Harry, please,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He suddenly felt so tired.

“Draco…?”

“Harry...”

“Draco, wake up.” A voice broke through the dream-forest that Draco stood in. Or laid in? Wasn’t he laying down?

Draco shut his eyes tighter, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. He still felt so, _so_ tired. But he was laying down now, on something soft and cushiony.

Cushion. The sofa. That’s right. After his encounter with Harry, Draco had run straight to the Room. He thought to work on and revise some of his homework before the weekend officially started, to distract himself. He remembered now how he had just given up after a half hour of working, too depressed and angry to keep studying. He’d thrown all of his supplies off of the sofa and had laid down.

He’d promised himself just a short nap before he went back all the way down to the dungeons. Draco didn’t know why he kept coming back to the Room. It should have hurt him, coming in and knowing that Harry would never walk in with him again. Instead, the room they had created was like a safe space. Outside of it, all the horrors of the war, the Dark Lord, the wizarding world, all of the negativity came rushing at him. But in here, it was like a private little sanctuary only known to him and Harry. Or just him, now, anyway.

“Draco, wake up, please,” the voice came again, and Draco realized suddenly that the voice wasn’t coming from his dreams.

Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he glanced up. At first, he wasn’t sure what to feel when his gaze landed on a familiar pair of emerald eyes. He could only describe it as tunnel vision: everything around him, his emotions, their surroundings, the noise, all of it suddenly disappeared as gray eyes focused on green. He didn’t know how long he sat there, gaping, but he could read Harry’s eyes so easily now. He saw the forced indifference in them slowly shift into concern, and then quickly into nervous uncertainty.

“Draco —?”

“Harry,” Draco breathed, his voice raspy and harsh from disuse.

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t talked to anyone over the last five days. He’d even taken to ignoring Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle when he’d been in the common room a few times. Crabbe and Goyle had seemed suspicious, but Draco hadn’t been able to find the energy to care much. The Slytherins had all been used to Draco’s mood all year, though, so they hadn’t given him much fuss.

Other than his earlier encounter with Harry, he hadn’t talked to anyone for almost five days.

“Draco, are you alright?” Harry’s voice broke through his reverie.

Draco looked up, startled that he had drifted off again. He glanced at Harry, running the question in his mind a few times.

Was he alright?

Was he?

Was he _alright?_

The anger crept in, slowly, and Draco felt alive with it. He felt livid. _Furious_.

“Am I _alright?_ ” Draco sneered, sitting up completely straight. He didn’t know how his clothes or his hair looked, but going by Harry’s face he was pretty sure everything about him looked mad right about now. Draco didn’t care. He was _pissed_. “Why in the _fuck_ would I not be alright, Potter?” he spat angrily. “Why would you even care to ask, you giant prick! You absolute _arse!_ ”

He stood up, grabbing tightly at his wand and raising it towards Potter threateningly. Harry only stood silently, not reaching for his wand or fighting back in any way. He just stood there, staring at Draco with a glassy eyed expression.

Draco felt even more pissed.

“What now, Potter? Not going to fight back?” he scoffed, disbelieving as he glared at the other boy. “Or is it because you know you’ll lose? You fucking git! I won our last duel and then I beat you at Quidditch. So, I guess you really did make me stronger like you’d promised, then. Right, Potter?” He sniffed. “ _Right?!_ Damnit, say something! You great, utter _prick!_ ”

He collapsed, his knees folding underneath him as he fought to keep the tears at bay. His wand was held loosely at his side but Draco didn’t bother raising it at Harry anymore. What point was there when the git refused to fight back?

Draco shut his eyes, bowing his head down low so Harry wouldn’t witness the tears threatening to escape. He didn’t want Harry looking at him. Now that he was finally paying attention to him, finally standing in their room in front of Draco, he just wanted Harry gone. He had just been getting used to the gaping hole, and now Harry was here. Finally here. For some inane reason that Draco didn’t know. But he didn’t care. He hated him. He _hated_ Potter. Just looking at him brought all the pain back.

He heard slight movement in front of him, and then a hand pressed against his cheek.

Draco gasped painfully.

“Fuck _off_ , Potter,” he breathed, crying. The tears burned trails down his cheeks, and he vaguely felt Harry’s thumb softly swipe them away. He wanted to die. “Just go away,” he whispered, practically forcing the words to come out. “Just leave me alone —”

“No, Draco.”

“Please, _please_ ,” Draco begged, his eyes tightly clenched. “Just go. I can’t be around you… not right now. It hurts so much… _You_ hurt me so much —”

“Draco, please.”

“No, Harry —”

Then Draco felt Harry’s lips pressing on his.

And everything shattered.  

 


	8. Chapter Eight

At first, Draco thought he was dreaming again. It kind of felt like a dream — the feeling of emotional vagueness that creeped up on him slowly, the haziness in his surrounding environment, Dream-Harry’s hands on his face when they kissed, Draco’s eyes closed as he tried to imagine his dream being a reality.

But no, this wasn’t a dream. It was real.

Draco opened his eyes, only slightly surprised to see Harry as his lips moved softly against Draco’s. His touch felt so real. Which meant, Harry really was here.

Holding him. Kissing him.

The _prick_.

Draco ripped his mouth away, and swung.

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t fucking believe that you punched me in the nose, _again_ ,” Harry was saying later, touching his newly healed nose softly. His watery eyes only slightly glared at Draco, which Draco ignored as he put his wand away and sat next to Harry on the sofa.

Draco could only scoff, not even a little bit regretful for his earlier actions.

After Draco had punched Harry, which had nearly broken his nose, Draco had quickly stood up and wiped away his tears hurriedly. He turned to the door, ready to flee and abandon his notes and books behind. He didn’t _care_. He just needed to get away from Potter right now or he was really going to do something regretful, like kill the git.  

But Harry’s hand had grabbed Draco’s arm and swung him around to try to stop him. That hadn’t worked well, as Draco had not been willing to be coerced any longer by some green-eyed prat. He’d shoved hard at Harry and swung again, who quickly ducked the blow like lightening.

In any other situation, Draco would have been impressed at Harry’s nearly always dependable reflexes. But today was not that day.

Draco was furious at Harry’s barging into their room and kissing Draco like the past five days were nothing, like Draco hadn’t suffered day and night and cried himself to sleep worrying and waiting and, Merlin forbid, _pining_. Draco was _not_ some damsel in distress who pouted and wept until the stupid Gryffindor knight swooped in to rescue him at the last moment. 

So, Draco had to fight back, because that’s what Malfoy and Potter did — they fought. Draco swung and swung again, until finally one of his blows landed on Harry’s sternum. Harry’s breath was knocked out of him, and Draco quickly turned to take advantage of Harry’s loose grip around his waist and make his escape. Harry had the recovery time and stamina of a hippogriff, though, and Harry managed to shove and wrestle Draco against the wall.

He shoved Draco’s restless hands above his head and forced Draco to turn to face the wall. Draco tried to struggle against Potter’s grip on his hands, but the Gryffindor’s hold on him was too strong. He tried kicking backwards at anything that was Potter, but the other boy was smart enough to kick his legs apart until Draco had no choice but to keep still or he’d fall due to instability.

Draco growled, eyes glaring ahead of him at the wall. He didn’t relax in Potter’s grip, but he did stop fighting him. For the moment.

“Just stop it, Draco,” Harry gasped behind him, sounding wearied and in pain.

Draco smirked. Good, he deserved it. “Why should I, Potter?” he drawled, his tone vicious. “You think that you can just come in here after blatantly ignoring me all week, not that I cared, and just walk into _our_ room and assault me? If my father heard about this —!”

“Draco, your father is in Azkaban,” Harry said, his tone weary.

“Because of you!” Draco screamed, not caring if he was acing irrational.

“For being a Death Eater.”

Draco scowled. “Oh, really? Thank you for the reminder! I’ll make sure he throws the dark spells at you then first before I —”

Draco felt soft lips graze against the nape of his neck.

His body stilled as Harry’s mouth began to leave a light trail of kisses onto his skin. Disbelief coursed through him, before heat suddenly licked at Draco’s nerves, concentrating mostly around the area of his neck. His heart thrummed wildly, and he heard himself let out a stilted gasp. Cheeks flushing, he quickly grew embarrassed.

“Potter, let go,” he sighed, voice coming out much raspier than he intended.

Harry ignored him, and moved one hand, the one not currently trapping his wrists against the wall, slowly down his arm and around his waist to wrap itself in front of Draco’s chest. He pulled Draco tighter against him, causing Draco to momentarily forget himself and moan at the feeling of Harry’s warm, broad chest against the curve of his back.

Draco’s head tilted backwards onto Harry’s shoulder, and a loud groan wrenched itself out of his throat. He couldn’t help it. Harry’s lips, his hands, his magic — it all felt so good. Draco soon stopped struggling entirely, feeling his limbs grow weak and barely able to hold him up at all. Then Harry’s other hand let Draco go so that both arms could wrap themselves around Draco’s waist, running along his torso from the bottom and all the way to where Draco’s nipples lay under his clothing.

Oh, how he wanted Harry’s hands to keep touching him. Everywhere would be nice, but under the clothing would be better, Draco vaguely thought. He was seriously enjoying all this heat that was licking at him everywhere, but most especially at the points where Harry’s body touched his.

Draco moaned again as Harry’s lips parted on his neck, and he felt a silky tongue wetly swipe a lick into his skin. The skin nerves there burned, sending a hot jolt of longing racing down his spine. He nearly cried out in pleasure, and had to bite his lip in order to contain the pleasured screams that wanted to erupt from his throat. Instead, Draco reached up with his left hand to wrap itself into Harry’s hair. He didn’t push him away or pull him closer, but just held Harry’s head close to him, not wanting to stop for _anything_.

His moans and gasps echoed across the room, but Draco paid them no heed as he tilted his head back further in pleasure. He vaguely felt a rumble go across his back, and it took a short while to realize that Potter was chuckling. Quite loudly, actually.

“…have to remember, way to shut up a Malfoy number one: kiss him,” Draco heard Harry saying.

He froze, eyes wide.

Harry must have felt his body seize up, because he quickly pushed Draco flat against the wall so that he couldn’t escape.

Draco didn’t want to escape though, funnily enough. All of a sudden, Draco wanted Potter closer, a lot closer, so that he could _kill_ him.

“Potter,” he growled warningly. “Let me go now and I’ll make fucking sure that your death will be quick and painless.”

“Nice try,” Harry said, his voice sounding a bit nasally. Draco absently guessed that he had broken his nose after all. Draco grinned maliciously, unashamed. “I’ll let you go, Draco, but you have to promise me that you won’t leave.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but had to admit that he had already made the decision not to leave a while ago; before the necking had even started.

“Fine,” he assented, choosing to stand still in Potter’s grip. Harry seemed to hesitate and for good reason, before he finally stepped back and away from Draco.

The blond finally was able to lower his arms to his sides, rubbing away the soreness in them as he slowly turned to face Potter. The other boy’s nose was broken and bleeding, and Draco mentally winced at having potentially ruined that beautiful face again, even for a short while.

He reached for his wand, but Harry jumped backwards, perhaps to avoid a jinx. Draco just rolled his eyes again.

“I’m not going to hex you, you git. Although I should. I’m going to fix up your nose,” he said, then cast before Harry had a chance to reply.

Draco’s _Episkey_ hit Harry straight on, and the boy let out a sharp cry as he doubled over. For a moment, Draco almost doubted his healing abilities until Harry finally straightened. He wiggled his nose to test it out before sighing in relief.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured to him.

Draco just ignored him as he passed by to stand near the sofas and table.

Which soon led to Harry’s statement of disbelief and Draco putting his wand away as they both sat on the couch.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco’s sudden nonchalance, but he seemed to take a moment to think before saying anything else.

Draco was glad for Harry’s silence. His nerves were still rattled from earlier, and his emotions were seriously in need of recovery after the crazy up and down feelings from the last fifteen minutes. He wanted to hex Potter so bad for stopping him from leaving, for assaulting him against a wall, for kissing him and touching him and making Draco _feel_ things. Merlin, if he wasn’t half in love with the git… Draco silently fumed to himself. Potter was lucky he only sustained a nose injury.

“So, Potter,” Draco started after the silence had stretched on for too long for his liking. “Care to explain yourself then? Otherwise, I’m leaving this room and you are not going to stop me.”

Harry seemed to shift uneasily in his seat next to Draco, and he gave a soft sigh of remorse. “Yeah, erm… I guess I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“’Sorry’?” _Sorry for nearly breaking my heart? For the kiss? For breaking your promise to me?_ Draco’s thoughts raced through his mind. “Sorry for what, exactly, Potter?”

“Erm, all of it, I guess,” Harry said, as if he could hear Draco’s thoughts. “I’m sorry I ran out of here on Sunday and then for ignoring you all week. And I’m sorry for what happened earlier today in the hall. I had some stuff that I had to sort through, before I could see you again. And I wasn’t ready before. And then… I mean, I’m sorry for coming in like that and surprising you. I didn’t see you anywhere on the map, and I just got worried. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m glad you were here, though, and when I tried to wake you… I didn’t mean…” Harry broke his rambling, quickly looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap. “I hated seeing you cry, and the kiss —”

“So it was just a kiss out of pity, then?” Draco sneered, ice slicing through his chest. “You thought you could use your golden boy status and have your way with the son of a death eater, and that nobody would believe me if I said otherwise?”

“No! No, I didn’t think that!” Harry cried, eyes wide. “Merlin, Draco, is that what you think of me?”

“I have no idea what to think of you, Potter,” Draco said angrily. “You ignore me for an entire week just for — what? Some lame arse excuse that you can’t even tell me? And then you just decide you can kiss me after all of that? You really are an absolute prat!”

“I know!” Harry said, running his hands restlessly in his hair. “I know all of that, and I’m sorry!”

“For what exactly?!” Draco yelled, towering over Harry. “You left me, Potter! You made a promise with me and you broke it!”

“I didn’t mean to! I-I was just…”

“What? Just what? You just finally came to your senses and realized what it meant to have a death eater’s son for a friend —”

“No, Draco, Merlin, let me just talk!”

“Well, get to the point then! I’m done wasting my time with you.”

“Just hear me out, please, Draco,” Harry pleaded. “Listen, I didn’t mean to ignore you like that. Honestly, I-I was just… I mean, I didn’t know what to feel after what happened Sunday, alright? I _felt_ something with you that day, and Draco… it scared the bloody hell out of me. I didn’t know what to think. One minute I’m having the time of my life with my friend, and then all of a sudden I feel like _kissing_ him. A bloke! I was so confused! Plus it was you, Draco Malfoy. So I was feeling all out of sorts. I thought that if I had a couple days away from you, I’d feel back to normal. But Merlin, Draco, seeing you day after day… you were so quiet, and you wouldn’t talk to anyone. You stopped speaking in class and the other Slytherins started looking worried even… Then what happened earlier today, and me yelling at you. You looked so broken afterwards. I couldn’t take it after that, being away from you. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew that I was upset at myself for missing our meetings. I-I kept track of you on the map. Just to make sure you were safe. I watched every time you came in here, wishing I could just get over myself and meet you. Then I’d see your dot go back to your dorms a few hours later. You did this every night, and I watched it. But then, last night I didn’t see your dot.”

“What?”

“Yesterday night, you came in here, Draco. I waited and waited, but your dot didn’t appear again. Curfew passed and your dot still wouldn’t show. I got scared. I thought…. I mean, I didn’t know what to think but I thought maybe, you’d hurt yourself…? I wasn’t exactly sure, but I really wasn’t thinking straight. Haven’t been for the last week, actually. But I didn’t see your dot, and I knew I had to come here and make sure you were alright…”

“You came here out of concern, then?” Draco asked, almost inclined not to believe Potter’s ridiculous story. “You actually didn’t come here to explain yourself.”

“No, I did! I mean, yeah, I had planned to do that, too,” Harry stammered, his words tripping over as they came out. “But then I saw you sleeping here, and Draco… You were so beautiful, so quiet, when you were sleeping. I’d planned to leave as soon as I realized that you were asleep. But you looked so peaceful sleeping there... And then I heard you said my name.”

“What?” Draco said, disbelieving.

“You did. Just my first name. And I turned back, but you were still asleep, you hadn’t seen me. So, I tried to wake you, and…”

“And then I started crying, and you felt sorry for me.”

“No, not really. I mean, I did feel really bad for making you cry. It nearly killed me just seeing how much I’d hurt you, Draco. But I didn’t kiss you because of that,” Harry said, his tone pleading. “I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I had been dreaming and thinking about it all week, and I couldn’t wait to do that to you when I saw you again. I just have horrible timing, is all,” Harry sighed. His gaze burned into Draco, pleading. “Please believe me, Draco. I wanted to kiss you. Not out of pity or an apology. I just… I like you.” 

“You’re gay then?” Draco asked, trying to halt the thumping of his heart and the rise of hope in his veins.

Harry looked confused. “Yes? No…?  I don’t know, honestly.”

“So you’re wanting to experiment with me? Because I’m the only gay bloke that you know?”

“Damnit, Draco, stop putting words in my mouth,” Harry sighed angrily. “No, I don’t want to experiment with you. I mean, that’s not all I want with you. I know I like girls, alright, but you’re the only bloke I’ve been attracted to. And Draco, that’s one thing that I do know, is that I like you. As in, I fancy you.”

Draco rolled his eyes, pleased at Harry’s rambling. Still, this was all almost too good to be true. “Even if I’m a boy?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly, gaze burning. “I don’t know if I like other blokes, but I do know that right now it’s just you. I don’t even fancy any other birds right now. The only person I’m attracted to at all is you, Draco.”                

Merlin save him from sentimental Gryffindors, Draco thought, as he scooted closer to Harry. The other boy wasn’t expecting that and his eyes grew wide as Draco neared him.

“So, you fancy me then, Harry?” Draco whispered, breath ghosting over Harry’s skin.

The Gryffindor swallowed, but nodded.

“And you’re ready to go back to training me?” he asked. Another quick nod. “Then, I guess I have to forgive you, don’t I? I mean, who am I to turn down the Boy-Who-Lived when he makes such an eloquent proposition as that?”

Harry was grinning so wide he looked like he’d already defeated the Dark Lord, and it nearly blinded Draco with its intensity. “Yeah,” he sighed, moving his hand to cup around Draco’s waist, steadying him as the blond practically crawled onto the Gryffindor. “Yeah…”

“But,” Draco said, his voice low and his eyes unwavering. “Let’s get this straight now, Potter. I forgive you for acting like a fool this week because you have an emotional range of a tea cup.”

“Bigger than Ron’s, then?” Harry laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re so odd, Harry Potter. I don’t even know why I like you.”

“You fancy me, too, then?”

He rolled his eyes. “I suppose I do, Potter, but Merlin knows why. You ignore me for an entire week, and still you somehow manage to get me into your lap. Literally.”

“Well, fancy that,” Harry smirked, raising his eyebrows.

“Arrogance is most unbecoming on you, Harry,” Draco sighed, shaking his head. He moved his hands to slide them against Harry’s arms to his shoulders, where he gripped the cloth material of his shirt tightly. He bit his lip, unexpectedly anxious as he grew more serious. “But never again, Harry,” he whispered, refusing to look up. “Please, don’t ever ignore me like that again. I mean, I can ignore you all I want. I’m the one being generous in letting you take up with me. I’m quite the catch, after all. You’re lucky that you have such great taste. But if you _ever_ decide to think like that without my permission… I mean, honestly, leave the thinking to me. You obviously don’t have the ability to think correctly when it concerns me, which is completely an understandable excuse. I don’t blame —”

“Hey,” Harry said, pausing his rambling — thank Merlin, because Draco didn’t know what more he would’ve revealed to Harry with his scrambled state of mind — and tilted Draco’s chin so that Draco could meet his eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t ever fuck up like that again, Draco,” he said solemnly. “But I can promise you this: I will continue our trainings, I will protect you from Voldemort, and I will never, ever ignore you ever again.”

Then he pulled Draco closer so that their lips could meet, with not an inch of air between their bodies as their arms wrapped tight around each other.

And Draco was perfectly alright with that.        

 


	9. Chapter Nine

They lay like that for a while, kissing and touching all over and under their clothes. Unbeknownst to them, students had already begun to fill the noisy halls as they readied for Quidditch scrimmages, last term visits to Hogsmeade, and whatever else a student would want to do on a Saturday morning.

Inside their room, though, the boys were in their own little world that encompassed only them; away from the dangers and expectations of the world. The boys only focused on discovering each other as they mapped out each other’s bodies.

Somehow, Draco wasn’t sure exactly, Harry had managed to crawl and stretch out his body over Draco, pinning him against the soft cushions of the couch. His face was tucked into Draco’s neck, licking and sucking softly at the other boy’s skin. Draco moaned and instinctively wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist, trying to get leverage as he pulled himself closer to Harry.

“Draco,” Harry gasped, shifting slightly as he grasped the back of the sofa and pressed closer to the boy underneath him. His green eyes fluttered closed and he moaned, disbelieving at how good the other boy felt against him. He felt so warm, so _perfect_. Harry broke off the moan that threatened to escape, pressing his tongue more firmly against Draco’s nape, sucking and teething at the smooth, pale skin.

Draco gasped, his mouth opening slightly. He felt so entirely lost, with nothing but Harry’s scent, Harry’s hands, his lips and tongue, all of him surrounding Draco. He'd never kissed anyone like this before, not even Blaise or Pansy. Nothing could ever compare. Draco felt like he was drowning in the utter brilliance that was Harry. He was drowning, gasping for air, but it all felt so good at the same time. He needed this, Draco realized, and he didn’t care if he died from it. All he knew was that Harry felt utterly brilliant against him, utterly _brilliant_.

Harry moved up so that his lips could press against Draco’s once more, marveling over how soft, sweet, and firm Draco’s lips felt. It was nothing like his previous kisses with Cho. Harry had never felt anything like this — such intense yearning that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he just knew that Draco’s lips held the answer. He never wanted to stop touching and kissing the other boy. He was so beautiful, so pale and delicate, and yet so strong whenever he called Harry out on his idiotic foolishness. Oh, how Harry regretted even missing a week from Draco, when they could have been doing this the entire time.

For Draco, he was nearly cursing Harry in his own head for the same thing. Merlin, if he had known that Harry had such a _wicked_ tongue — Draco was sure that he would’ve marched right into the Great Hall on Monday and kissed the boy silly for thinking he could have ignored this feeling between them. Damned Draco if he thought he was ever going to let Harry go after this. Screw the wizarding world, Harry Potter was his to love and protect.

Such heady and intense feelings rose within the boys as they continued in their exploration of each other; they never gave thought to how much time had passed and who would be looking for them. Draco’s friends had assumed he was still moping in his room or somewhere else on the castle grounds, but Harry’s weren’t quite as dismissive.

A silver otter suddenly sailed into the room with a loud whoosh, and Hermione Granger’s slightly panicked voice broke through the air, springing the two boys on the couch apart from each other. Her voice was shrill and reverberated through the room.

_Harry, where are you? Ron and I searched for you everywhere on the map, but we can’t find you on it. Either you’re in the Room or in Hogsmeade. Please, let us know. We’ve been worried sick!_

The silver otter disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Silence fell in the room.

Then Draco laughed shakily. “Well, I hope my Patronus isn’t an otter. How annoying would that be?”  

Harry snorted, but silently agreed. He turned to Draco, shifting a bit to cover himself more reservedly, and stared bemusedly at him. What were they supposed to do now? That was his first kiss with a bloke, and his first, well, everything else with another person. It didn’t feel as strange as he’d thought, kissing another bloke. Rather, it had actually been pretty brilliant. But Harry wasn’t sure what happened next between them. Did they talk now? Did the other boy regret kissing him?

Draco looked at Harry, amused, as he read the millions of thoughts running through Harry’s expression. Merlin, the Gryffindor was such an open book. Draco sighed softly to get the other boy’s attention. “So.”

“So… what?”

Draco grinned, then leaned across the space and pecked the corner of Harry’s lips, eyes open and watching the other boy for a reaction.

Harry breathed in sharply. “Oh, that,” he laughed shakily.

Draco gave a smirk at Harry’s reaction. He leaned in again, kissing Harry gently, and let his hand slide along Harry’s thigh and over the bulge in his muggle jeans.

Harry kissed back languidly, letting out a contented sigh through his nose at the feeling of Draco’s touch against his hardness. “Feels good. You're such a good kisser,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.

Draco gave a small laugh. “You’re not too bad, yourself,” he whispered back.

Harry laughed with him. Then groaned. "What time is it?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer. He didn’t want to leave Draco, but he also didn’t like worrying Ron and Hermione. 

Draco sighed, and let go of Harry. “Time to leave, apparently.” He cast a quick _Tempus_ , the time reading that it was Saturday morning, just before noon. “We better go before your friends send a search party.” Harry laughed nervously, not doubting it.

They both pulled apart and stood up.

Harry tried to flatten his hair to make it somewhat orderly, failing at it expectedly, while Draco turned to gather his things into his bookbag. He moved slowly, dreading walking out of the door and facing reality again. Outside the Room, he and Harry were still supposed to be enemies. Harry had an obligation to the wizarding world, and Draco was a traitor to the Dark Lord, even if no one was aware of his switching sides yet.

Draco hated it, but there was nothing he could do. He and Harry couldn’t possibly go public, with whatever it was they were doing. Were they boyfriends now? Friends with benefits? Harry had said that he’d fancied Draco, but what did that mean?

“Hey,” Harry’s voice came from behind him. Arms wrapped around Draco, holding him tight against Harry’s chest. Draco’s eyes stung, and he ashamedly realized that he was close to tears. Being around Harry too much had apparently turned him a bit sentimental. “Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Draco hurried to say. Thank Merlin his voice was working fine. “We’d better hurry and leave, before another Patronus comes in. People will start getting suspicious.”

Draco pulled away, keeping his eyes to the floor as he swung his bookbag onto his shoulder and headed towards the door of the room. He heard Harry grabbing his cloak and follow him.

“Erm, so who goes first?” Harry asked, looking gingerly at Draco and with uncertainty in his voice.

Draco shrugged. “You can go first, since your friends might throw a snit if you’re not back quickly. I’ll wait a few minutes, then I’ll go down to my dorms. I need to finish Slughorn’s essay.”

Harry paused, still not wanting to leave but knowing he had no choice. “When did you want to meet up again?” he asked, trying to prolong their parting.  

Draco shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter. You should concentrate on sorting out your friends first.”

Harry suddenly didn’t like how indifferent Draco was acting. What happened? Draco was just fine a moment ago. He was confused, but he didn’t have the time to ask Draco about it. He’d just owl Draco later after dealing with Ron and Hermione.

Determined now to hurry back to when he could be with Draco again, he stepped forward to place a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips. It was meant to be short, but Harry suddenly had an urge to taste Draco. He parted his mouth, slipping his tongue between Draco’s lips and twining them softly together. He felt Draco groan into the kiss and then enthusiastically twist his tongue to join in Harry's mouth, reaching deeper to explore the ridges and wetness. Hands knotted into his hair, and Harry quickly wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist to hold him closer to him.

They kissed for several more moments before Harry could finally tear himself away, else he’d ravage Draco right there against the doorway. “Alright,” Harry panted, grinning widely. “See you later then.”

Draco gave him a soft smile, and it nearly broke Harry’s heart knowing he had to walk away from it. “Bye, Harry,” Draco said.

Harry flashed him one last grin and left, pulling the cloak over him as he did. When the door closed behind him, Draco leaned against the wall to wait five minutes. He took a deep breath. Then another.

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and Chosen One to defeat Voldemort, had kissed him. And he was a fantastic kisser. 

Draco was _fucked_.

* * *

 

It was during lunch when Draco next saw Harry. Harry walked into the Great Hall with Granger and the Weasel on either side of him as they headed towards the Gryffindor table. Draco watched him for a moment, trying not to look obvious as he did. He had to turn away though when the Weasley girl sat near to Harry and whispered something to him. Harry laughed, head thrown back and eyes glittering. Draco almost drooled at the sight, and so he quickly turned away to concentrate on his food in front of him. But it held no appeal compared to Harry’s wide smile and bright green eyes.

Feeling suddenly nauseous, Draco pushed his plate away and put his head down, trying to ignore the unseen eyes that he knew were watching his every move. He’d rather leave the Great Hall altogether, but he knew that would look suspicious. It hadn’t even passed ten minutes since lunch started, but Draco had no appetite. Not with the thoughts running through his head and knowing that Ginny Weasley was sidled next to Harry, flirting with him.

It wasn’t going to last long anyway, Draco knew. There were too many variables. Harry being the Chosen One was an entirely different path that left no room for Draco. He was a traitor to his family and to the Dark Lord. Even if they could cross paths and be together, the wizarding world wouldn’t allow it — they were obsessed with Harry. And if he lived to win this war, Harry deserved to have the dream life a hero like him should have.

Draco could see it now: Harry Potter, vanquisher of the Dark Lord, completes Hogwarts and enters the Auror Academy, meets and marries a beautiful witch worthy of a hero — perhaps the Weasley girl after all, so that Harry could make the Weasleys a real family of his — and a beautiful house to fill his entire new family. He’d go on to live a happy life, capturing the remaining bad guys, with him and his happy family smiling on the front page of the Prophet on a regular basis.

No scandals, no danger or grudges towards Harry. No regrets.

Draco pushed abruptly from the bench, grabbed his bag, and stomped towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

He never noticed but multiple gazes followed him, one green set concerned while the other followed him with cold, bitter eyes.    

 

* * *

 

Draco decided to skip dinner that night and head straight towards the Room of Hidden Things. As soon as he walked through the door, he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders and he could instantly breathe easier.

A magical room it may be, it also felt like Draco’s sanctuary from the outside world. It was the place he’d truly found himself, and it was a room he and Harry could be with each other without the pressures of the world crushing them. It was a place where Draco could really believe he and Harry could be with each other.

And Draco refused to give that up. Whatever may happen outside those doors, this was his and Harry’s room. He’d wait forever for Harry inside of here.

An hour after Draco had arrived, Harry walked through doorway already pulling off his Cloak.

Draco sighed when he saw him, realizing he had almost been holding his breath in thinking Harry might not have returned. 

“Hey,” he said in greeting, watching with hungry eyes as Harry crossed the room. He had already changed out of his robes and was laying languidly on the sofa.

Harry grinned and dropped the cloak into its usual place on the sofa. “Hey,” he greeted back, rolling up his sleeves. Draco eyed the thick tendons and strong muscles in his forearms, feeling his mouth water. “I didn’t see you at dinner. You hungry?” he asked, sitting next to Draco.

The blond shrugged. “Not really. Not for food, anyway,” he added, grinning wickedly at the Gryffindor. He reached forward and wrapped his hand around Harry’s neck, pulling him in. Harry was already meeting him halfway, and their mouths connected as their tongues danced together.

Merlin, how had he gone all these years without this? Draco wondered as he grabbed the collar of Harry’s shirt tightly. He pulled Harry closer, pulling him down and down until he was fully covering Draco and pressing him into the couch. The sensation of being pressed from either side made Draco moan loud. Merlin, it felt so good. He felt so safe and protected. Draco felt obsessed with the feeling of Harry’s chest pressing on his.

Harry groaned back into Draco’s mouth, the sound thrumming between their connected lips, and placed his knees on either side of Draco as his hands explored Draco’s neck, cheeks, and hair. His heart was beating madly during his assault inside Draco’s mouth.

Just a moment earlier, he had been itching to hurry and meet Draco. He never thought he’d ever be meeting Malfoy for a make-out session, or even be looking forward to it the whole day, but here Harry was and he was loving every second of it. Harry ran his fingers further into Draco’s beautiful, silk-like strands.  

Harry's hand in his hair felt like Harry was pulling his very nerves from his body. Smooth warmth ran in thick rivulets all the way down his spine. It made his heart race and he clutched harder onto Harry’s shoulders, arching high into the other boy in response to Harry’s wicked hands on him. He moaned into Harry’s mouth, feeling absolutely incredible.    

“Harry!” he gasped, bending his neck back and riding Harry’s thigh as his legs curled tighter around Harry’s waist. Harry moaned as the change in position brought his hips harder into Draco’s. He instantly turned and latched onto the pale expanse of skin of his neck. He sucked and licked and moaned as he tasted Draco’s lovely skin, as he felt Draco’s hands buried in his hair. Harry bit down hard onto Draco’s neck as the other boy pulled hard onto his strands, loving the sensation of Draco’s touch in his hair.

He couldn't believe this was really happening. Part of Harry was afraid that this was an elaborate wet dream. He’d had a few of them starring the blond for the last week, but in his heart, he knew this was real the moment he’d pressed himself against Draco. Nothing on earth had felt so good. If this was a dream, Harry never wanted to wake up.

Draco was thinking nearly the same thing, as his hardness finally lined up and pressed against Harry’s. Both boys threw their heads back, moaning loud as they arched into each other.

Draco was so hard, he was surprised he hadn’t come yet. But Harry’s thrusting into him was bringing him closer to the edge. The feel of his hips moving against him, and Harry’s lips and hands exploring every ounce of skin that they could find was almost too much for Draco to take. He keened loudly, hands scrabbling for purchase as he threw his hands backwards behind him. He clutched the back of the sofa firmly as he arched harder and harder into Harry above, who answered back with each quick push of his own hard length.   

“Merlin, oh Harry!" Draco moaned, his head thrown back and his hands nearly tearing the cushions. He felt the scorching heat rising, and _rising_. Draco groaned again, tensing tightly as he finally let go and came.

Harry growled into Draco’s skin as the blond nearly sobbed his release, and looked up in time to catch Draco’s face split into ecstasy. Intense pleasure filled him as he stared. He was so beautiful, so ethereal. And Draco looked that way because of him. Harry bit his lip, that last thought soaring through him and he came hard with a strangled howl.

Harry went limp against Draco, and both boys breathed harder than they’d ever done before. Harry felt like he might never be able to move again. Draco was basking in the hot energy still coursing through his veins. Neither boys wanted to move as their bodies continued to shudder in the aftermath of their orgasms.

After a moment, Harry turned so that he wasn’t nearly atop of Draco and crushing him. He moved so that he could spoon Draco against the couch, turning them both to face the rest of the room. He rubbed Draco’s arms, waiting for his racing heart to slow to its regular beat.

Finally, Draco turned his neck to look at him, wrapping his own arms around Harry’s so that they clasped each other in a tight hold. He sighed, leaning his head back against Harry’s, and tucked his face into the side of his throat as he breathed in the scent of sex, sweat, and Harry. It was an intoxicating combination that Draco knew he could quickly grow addicted to.

“Wow,” Harry breathed. “Is it always like that?”

Draco laughed softly. “Hmm, sometimes. Although, I think that was a category in and of itself, to be honest.”

Harry grinned widely, pleased. “That good, eh?”

He groaned. “Shut up, stupid Gryffindor.”

 


	10. Chapter Ten

After a few moments of resting, the boys soon realized that they were in desperate need of some Cleaning Charms. Draco slowly stood, stretching as he did, and reached for his wand to spell them both clean. Harry nodded his thanks and turned to grab his cloak where it had fallen to the floor. A hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Don’t,” Draco said, his grasp on Harry soft but steady. “Don’t go yet.”

Slightly surprised, Harry dropped his cloak and reached for Draco instead, cradling the back of Draco’s head in his palm. “What is it?” he asked. “Ron and Hermione don’t expect me for another few hours, at least. Do you want me to stay here?”

Unable to use his words, Draco nodded. He suddenly felt extremely anxious and needy for Harry to stay with him. Maybe it was the thought that he knew their time had a foreseeable limit. The small amount of time that they had left to spend together training and being intimate, Draco wanted it to be memorable.

Pulling Harry with him, Draco led them over to where the cushions lay scattered on the floor. He thought for a moment, and then beamed when a king sized four poster bed materialized before them.

Harry smiled at Draco’s quick thinking, and hurried to shed his clothing before slipping under the covers. Draco followed suit until all that he wore was a pair of black boxer briefs, then he crawled onto the bed and into Harry’s open arms.

“Hey,” Harry said, grinning widely at him as he looked his fill of Draco. The blond’s pale body was slender, similar to a swimmer’s body, and he had a light dusting of hair around his legs, arms, and chest area. His pale pink nipples were hard from the chilly air, and when Harry dipped his eyes lower he could easily see the hardness of Draco’s length straining against the fabric. Harry was only half-hard himself, but he could quickly imagine getting harder the longer he stared at Draco.

The blond was doing his own perusal of Harry’s body, specifically at the broad, firm chest right in front of him. Harry was covered with a thin layer of dark curls that Draco itched to sink his hands into. His eyes traveled all over Harry, from his slowly hardening and twitching length all the way up until they met Harry’s green eyes. That’s when Draco’s breath left him entirely. Intense, burning green eyes were darkened with hunger and lust. Draco nearly couldn’t believe that stare was meant for him, and if it hadn’t been for Harry’s hands wrapped around him, Draco would have collapsed onto the mattress from sheer muscle weakness.

Harry couldn’t take it a second more, either; he had to have Draco’s lips on his. His tilted his face down and brushed his tongue across Draco’s mouth, silently begging for entrance. A soft sigh parted Draco’s lips in greeting, and then Harry and Draco were ravaging each other’s open mouths with tongue and teeth. Harry’s hands on him spread out and slid across Draco’s slender back, feeling along his muscles and holding Draco’s form closer against his own.

Their heads tilted and turned as they fed one another’s growing need, moaning and sighing into each other’s mouths. Their kisses were fueled with heat, alternating between being wild and biting to sensual and tender. Draco didn’t even know how he was still conscious as his lungs burned with air and he refused to break lips with Harry.

One of Harry’s hands slip down to caress the firm curve of Draco’s arse through the thin material of his pants. The blond pressed forward, hips aligning with Harry’s as his legs wrapped around and locked behind the other’s waist. He hummed deep in his throat at the resulting surge of pleasure as their hard lengths pressed together.

Draco finally had to tear his lips apart from Harry’s to take a lungful of much needed air, although the other boy barely noticed as Harry continued to rain kisses and suck at Draco’s skin along his cheeks and jawbone. Draco keened as Harry made a particular thrust that felt perfect against him, sending hot fire through their groins.

“Harry,” he whispered, head tilting back as his pants echoed through the room. “Harry, I want you.”

Harry groaned, thrusting harder against the blond below him. “Yes, I want you too,” he replied hoarsely, and pulled back a bit to look at Draco. The blond’s hair was entirely mussed, his gray eyes were entirely wild with hunger, and a red flush had spread across his cheeks down to his neck and collarbone area. Harry’s eyes grew darker as his gaze lowered to the pert pink nipples calling his name. Before he had a chance to think, he lowered his head and pulled one of the small nubs into his mouth.

“Fuck, Harry!” Draco cried, startled at first but settling down as he felt Harry’s tongue and teeth teasing the nub almost painfully. Pre-come dripped from his length, and Draco itched to touch himself and relieve some of the ache. He reached his hand down to do exactly that when Harry’s hand stopped him. Draco glanced down to see a wicked smile spread across Harry’s face.

“Not yet,” the Gryffindor said, winking lasciviously.

Draco groaned, watching as Harry slid himself down the length of Draco’s body. Harry’s fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants and slowly pulled the material off, relieving Draco’s erection as he did, before tossing them aside. Then Harry stared, riveted at the sight of Draco’s hard, pink length that practically begged for attention. His mouth watered at the slender length and he slowly reached a hand out to grasp it firmly.

“Oh!” Draco cried, rocking forward into Harry’s touch. The Gryffindor was glad for the reaction.

He had no idea what he was doing, honestly. Other than himself, he had never touched another person underneath their clothing before, let alone their prick. Harry thought he should’ve been disgusted at seeing another bloke’s bits so close to his face. On the contrary, Draco’s bits were a lovely sight to behold. Harry wasn’t sure if it was the same with all blokes, but Draco’s prick made him want to touch, suck, and lick until come was spurting wildly from him. He wanted to taste Draco and swallow him down his throat, and Merlin if that image alone nearly sent Harry across the edge.

Draco must have taken Harry’s pause for hesitation, because he quickly pressed a hand against Harry’s cheek and tilted his chin up to look at Draco. “Come here,” he said, already pulling Harry up.

Harry went willingly, bemused at the sudden change of position, until he found himself with his own back against the headboard and Draco’s head between his legs.

“Wha —?” he barely managed to exclaim, and then Draco was taking Harry into the tight, wet heat of his mouth.

Harry let loose a loud cry, and quickly reached down to bury his fingers into Draco’s blond locks. His hips arched, and Draco had to press an arm down to still him.

“Oh fuck!” Harry gasped, throwing his head back into the headboard behind him. The dull pain in his skull didn’t even register as he felt Draco’s tongue gently teasing and sucking at his swollen head.

Harry yearned to look down and watch Draco but after only a second of looking at the beautiful vision of Draco Malfoy’s head bobbing between his legs, it had nearly sent him right over. He had to clench his eyes tight and think of Snape in a polka dot dressing gown or else he was going to spurt seconds into his very first blowjob. 

Draco was very pleased at Harry’s reaction, and he moaned hard as he continued his ruthless sucking of Harry’s length.

Harry was so thick, thicker than himself, and more than long enough to challenge Draco’s gag reflex. He had loved to suck Blaise Zabini during fifth year, and Draco had always thought of himself as a natural born cock sucker. But this experience with Harry was entirely in a different league of its own. Draco had nearly salivated when he had first seen Harry’s length, desperately hoping for a chance to get his mouth on him sometime tonight. Now that he was actually here, lips wrapped around Harry’s throbbing and thrusting length, it was like a dream come true.

He eventually had to release Harry’s swollen head from his mouth so that he could lick a slow, lingering swipe along its length. He buried his nose in Harry’s pubic hair, breathing in the musky scent of him as he nuzzled the thick base of his cock. He vaguely heard Harry’s loud moan above him, and gave a smirk as he slid his lips in a tight suction around his head while at the same time palming his way between Harry’s legs until he held one soft pink ball sack in his hands. He tugged softly at Harry’s balls and moaned hard against Harry’s cock.

“Fucking Merlin!” Harry cried, digging his fingers deeper into the nape of his hair. “Fuck, Draco!”

Draco sucked at the pulsing length one last time, one hand reaching to pull at what didn’t fit inside Draco’s mouth while the other tugged softly at his balls. The stimulation was too much for Harry, and he jerked once, twice, before shouting out hoarsely as his body arched into Draco’s mouth. Draco was pleased, and he had to concentrate on drinking every last drop of Harry’s come. He didn’t want to waste a single drop.   

Harry collapsed into a shuddering, moaning heap, curling onto his side so that he could see Draco. The blond grinned like a cat who had finally got the cream, and crawled up until he was next to Harry. He tucked his head between Harry’s neck and sighed contentedly.

“How was that?” he asked Harry, genuinely curious. Even though he’d had experience with Blaise, he still yearned to impress Harry with his skills.

Impress he did, and more. Harry could barely think straight. But he had noticed that Draco hadn’t come yet.

“That was brilliant. But I want to see you come,” he said, turning and reaching over to palm Draco’s hard length.

Draco groaned in appreciation, spreading his legs wider for better access for Harry. He was so close. So, so close.

“Fuck, Harry!” he cried, thrusting his hips into Harry’s fist. It only took about a minute of Harry pumping his length before Draco was arching and crying out, his fingers clenching hard on Harry’s arm. His breath came in pants as he slowly came down from his own orgasm high.

While he waited, Harry cast a quick cleaning charm over them and pulled the sheets over Draco so as to prevent a chill. Draco gave him a soft smile, and snuggled against him as Harry laid back down again.

“So, the Ice Prince of Slytherin is a cuddler at heart, who knew?” Harry teased, grinning down at him sleepily. Draco tilted his head and gave him a small bite on the collar bone in retaliation, but it only made Harry groan in pleasure.

Draco chuckled. “You’re insatiable,” he said, but he was pleased.

Harry winked at him, but the yawn that followed quickly ruined the effect. “Give me about ten minutes, then I’ll be ready for the next round.”

Draco gave a sleepy chuckle as he watched Harry slip into dreaming land, before quickly following himself. Both boys wore smiles as they slept, intertwined together in the bed. And for a couple of hours in their room, in that king sized four poster bed, they were at peace.

* * *

May 25

 

Draco awoke the next morning feeling warm and comfortable and safe, he didn’t want to move for fear of disturbing such contentment. He smiled, keeping his eyes closed, and inhaling the scent of sex and Harry. He could feel the boy curled around behind him, and sighed happily. He went to stretch his legs, and let out a groan as he felt the soreness in his overexerted muscles.

After the previous night’s activities, in which Draco had given Harry his first blowjob and Harry had returned the favor by giving his first hand job, the boys had taken a break for a few hours before resuming their explorations of each other’s bodies.

Harry had woken up Draco with a blowjob, which while it was awkward and Harry hadn’t been able to swallow most of Draco’s come, Draco had screamed his ecstasy due mostly to Harry’s sheer enthusiasm and resolve. At this rate, Draco knew Harry would be a master at cock sucking with plenty of practice, which he’d make sure Harry would get.

Then they’d wrestled in a bed for a while, teasing and tickling each other until the laughs soon became moans, and pants, and then more cries for release. Draco had lost count of the number of times he had come that night with Harry, and all he could think of was how thankful he was to be sixteen.    

Although, now that it was Sunday morning, Draco was feeling all of those overwhelmed nerves screaming at him now. He moaned softly at his sore muscles as he turned around to see Harry grinning sleepily at him.

“Hey,” Harry said, which was quickly becoming a familiar greeting. “Sleep well?”

Draco nearly snorted, and he gave Harry a mock glare. “I might have if someone hadn’t kept me up all night.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Harry teased in his ear, licking and sucking at Draco’s lobe. “You were also the one who crawled on top of me during that last one. Not that I minded.”

Draco wanted to roll his eyes as he felt Harry nuzzling his throat. Insatiable Gryffindors.

If he was honest with himself, though, Draco was insanely happy. He hadn’t stopped smiling all night, and his grin only grew bigger the more Harry acted as if he couldn’t get enough of Draco. He’d never felt such bliss and happiness with another person like this, and in such a short amount of time too.

To think, Harry had only come back to him the night before. Were they going too fast? Were they rushing this? Would Harry even want to see him tomorrow once classes started again, and not ignore him like last week?

Did Draco really even care?

He didn’t have much time with Harry. So, what did it bloody matter if they fucked liked rabbits after only admitting them fancying each other a day ago? Draco would never see the gorgeous prick again after Harry had his fill. He had to use all the time that he had while he could.

Keeping a passive face, Draco turned to face Harry. He wanted to grin when he saw a slight hunger in those green eyes, even after all of last night’s activities. Merlin, Harry was incredible.

“What did you have planned today?” he asked Harry as he curled closer to him.

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he bolted straight up in the bed. “Merlin, I forgot! I was supposed to go back to the dorms and see Ron and Hermione.” He scrambled out from the covers, hurriedly pulling on his trousers as he tried to shove his feet into his trainers at the same time.

Draco snorted at the wild display, and cast a quick _Tempus_.

“Harry, Merlin Harry, slow down! You’ve got time.”

“Wha —?” Harry said, his tie clenched between his teeth as he hurried to button up his shirt.

Draco shook his head fondly at the Gryffindor.

“It’s only four in the morning. You still have plenty of time to sneak back into the dorms before Granger and the Weasel notice.”

“But they’ll know I was out all night because I didn’t come back.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors,” he sighed. “Just tell them you went for a walk and accidently crashed out in some empty classroom or something.”

“They wouldn’t believe that,” Harry said, shaking his head. He had slowed down his dressing, though, which Draco was grateful for. It didn’t sit well with him seeing Harry jump out of their bed so quickly, the same bed they had licked and sucked and tasted each other in all night.  

“Then just tell them something believable. You still have time to think about it.”

Harry was biting his lip, and all of a sudden he looked a bit shifty as he avoided Draco’s stare. Draco raised his eyebrows, waiting for the eventual eloquence that knew awaited him. “Er, well, I had an idea about that actually.”

“’An idea.’” Draco deadpanned, his words a statement, not a question.

“Yeah. I mean, well, I was actually thinking that I should tell Ron and Hermione about us,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper near the end.

Draco gaped at him. “What? You want to tell them…?”

“No! I mean, no, not about that,” Harry hurried to explain. “I meant, as in you switching sides and me training you. I know that it’s not smart telling the entire school and everyone else. Too many eyes and ears, and everything you said. But Ron and Mione are my best mates. We tell each other everything.”

“I’m well aware,” Draco almost sneered. “Do they have to know about this, though? Apparently, you’ve already tried convincing them that I’m a Death Eater —”

“Right, sorry about that.”

“But if they know that you’re training me now, don’t you think that makes me look suspicious? One moment you’re hating my guts and declaring me the enemy, and the next you have my dick down your throat!”

“Hey,” Harry broke in quickly, coming around to wrap his arms to cradle Draco against him. “Listen, I told you already, you were never my enemy. And we apologized already for all that crap we put each other through.”

“Yes, Harry, but you’re also close to screwing a Death Eater’s son. We slept together last night. That makes this entire situation biased. Granger and the Weasel are going to think I put you under Imperius or a love potion.”

Harry sighed, turning Draco around to face him clearly. “Okay, for one, we slept together in the literal sense. I haven’t fucked you. Yet,” he added with a charming leer.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Focus, Potter!”

“Two,” he continued. “I can resist the Imperius. Where would you have gotten a powerful love potion for me, anyway? Plus, I meant that I only wanted to tell Ron and Mione the basic, small stuff. They don’t need to know the details or anything else about our deal. They know I cursed you in that bathroom. We can say that in order not to report me, you and I made a deal that I was to teach you other curses. It’s about the same as what we’re doing now, just without… all of the other extra stuff.”

 _Extra stuff_ , he calls it, Draco mentally scowled.

But he had to agree with Harry on the first part of his speech. The other two-thirds of the golden trio would believe it more if they thought Draco had coerced him, but in a more non-romantic and legal way that wouldn’t send him to Azkaban.

Draco sighed. “I feel like I’m going to regret this, and I’m not entirely sure if my support isn’t orgasm-induced, but fine. Tomorrow we can tell them.” Harry gave him a beaming grin. “But you can’t tell them I switched sides, or anything about my mission or my parents. Just strictly say that we’ve been meeting so I can pummel you with spells.”

“I wish you’d pummel me with something else —”

“Potter!” Draco cried, flushing deeply in both mortification and fondness. “You are truly insatiable!”

“Hmm,” Harry sighed, licking the side of Draco’s neck, and feeling pleased when he felt a tremor through Draco’s body. “Don’t you forget it, Draco.”

And then Harry proceeded to make sure that Draco wouldn’t forget it, for precisely one whole hour.          

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

May 26

 

It wasn’t that Draco was worried about Harry telling his sidekicks about their truce or the fact that Harry helped Draco train, because he knew it would only lead to suspicion if they didn’t. It wasn’t even the fact that Granger and the Weasel may try to convince Harry that Draco was really a Death Eater who was just trying to rope Harry in for secret intel before giftwrapping him to the Dark Lord.

No, what truly terrified Draco was if Granger and the Weasel somehow found out about their relations and cried to the Headmaster, who would in turn call in the Minister or some other rubbish person who would eventually let the secret out. If that happened, the Dark Lord would surely learn the truth about Draco’s true intentions and Harry would be in more danger than he was before.

Right now, Draco and Harry were able to be their true selves to each other within their room. But outside the room, the world still only knew them as Potter and Malfoy. And they had to keep it that way for Harry’s sake. Otherwise, who knew what the Dark Lord would do if he learned the two were romantically involved. He’d somehow use one against the other, either Harry in exchange for Draco’s service or Draco for Harry’s surrender. Either way, it was just better the less amount of people knew.

So, right now, Draco was pacing in their room.

Earlier in the day, Harry had owled him. He had told Draco that other than in classes, he had to stay out of sight until Harry managed to tell the other two everything that they had agreed to tell them. Seeing as Draco had no idea when that conversation was going to take place, he decided to go to their room right after his last class let out.  

It was actually quite nice and calming being alone in the room. Draco had ordered dinner using the room’s magic, which he had enjoyed immensely, and then he decided he’d distract himself by using one of the bookshelves in the corner of the room.

Only, it didn’t work. Two pages in, and Draco was mentally panicking about what Harry could possibly be telling his friends. Had Harry already told them? Had the Weasel thrown a fit? Had Dumbledore somehow overheard and had ordered the Aurors to capture Draco? Were they on their way right now, stomping through the halls and looking for Draco Malfoy, son of the notorious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy who currently resided in Azkaban? Would Harry save them if they took him away, or watch helplessly as —

Draco heard a slight knock on the door. He turned, bemused as to why Harry would suddenly decide to knock on their door when he had just casually invited himself in all the other times. Unless…

The door opened, and Draco nearly collapsed in relief as Harry’s wild hair poked through the door.

“Hey,” Draco said, standing up and walking over. “Did you…?”

“Erm, yeah, I did. And well, they’re outside in the hallway actually,” Harry said sheepishly. “I tried to stall them. They had so many questions, and Ron is a bit upset with me right now. But Hermione is really curious about the training room that we’re using, so er, if you could…?” He motioned to the disarrayed bed and to the cloaks that looked exactly like they’d been flung onto the floor without a single care.

Draco flushed. He wanted to refuse, because how dare Granger just intrude upon Draco’s sanctuary. This was his and Harry’s space, and Merlin knew how many jinxes he’d give Granger if her presence did anything to mess that up.

He gritted his teeth, but gave in to the plea in Harry’s expression. It was no use arguing when he wore a look like that.

It took a moment, and then the bed disappeared back to become floor cushions, the space on the sofas was decluttered and clean from parchment and food, and the bathroom that Harry had thought to install in the corner yesterday when the boys had wanted to shower together suddenly blinked out of existence. He thought for another moment, and a full tea service laid itself out on the table.

The room looked exactly as it had that first day when Draco had created the room. There was no sign of any intimacy ever having occurred, just a blank, nearly empty training room. Draco wanted to burn with rage at Granger’s nosing into their business, but the earnest expression that Harry wore quelled the anger.

That’s right, it’s not just about a room, Draco tried to remind himself. Hermione might walk into the space they’d come to know as theirs, but she couldn’t come between something she didn’t know about. As long as he and Harry were careful, they could just wish everything back and go about their nightly routine as normal. They just had to convince the duo of the honor in Draco’s intentions.

A minute after the room was back to its original state, Harry was walking back into the room with Granger and Weasley in tow, with the latter not appearing as if he wanted to be there at all.

Ditto, Draco thought to himself, wishing they’d just take a quick look and then leave already.

“Malfoy,” Granger greeted, her expression almost disbelieving at the sight of him, as if she really hadn’t thought that he would be there. Draco’s grey eyes regarded her with a neutral expression.

“Granger,” he said simply. Weasley was right behind her, his beady little eyes glaring in his direction. He didn’t bother greeting Draco, but he was alright with that. It gave him a chance to show Harry how much of a bigger person Draco was willing to be around his friends. “Weasley. Glad you could come.”

“Not that I had much of a choice, Malfoy,” came the terse reply from the redhead.

Harry and Hermione bit at their lips, looking slightly uncomfortable at the growing tension in the room. Trust Granger to act peacemaker in these types of situations.

“Wow, what an amazing space. Harry, did you make it? Looks awfully similar to the old D.A. room.”

Harry shook his head. “Draco made it. I thought the same thing, too,” he said, and he gave a look of pride towards Draco.

Draco tried not to blush, but he felt pleased at satisfying Harry this way. He wanted to prove himself to Harry any chance he could get, so he could show him that being a Slytherin and almost Death Eater wasn’t all the Draco was capable of.

Draco would curse himself for it later, but he didn’t notice Granger’s eyes that riveted between the two boys, wary, like she was contemplating something.    

“Yeah, funny that,” came Ron’s voice. “Maybe he managed to see a bit of the room when he was capturing everyone last year for Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad.” He sneered at Malfoy, taking a step forward in his direction threateningly.

Draco took a sharp breath. He had an urge to turn and flee the room, but he managed to hold steady. He kept his features neutral and waited for the Weasel to make a move. Draco would defend himself, but blast it if he was going to throw the first punch just so the Weasel could use another reason against him.

“I actually can’t bloody believe that we’re all standing here, pretending to take Malfoy at his word,” the redheaded Gryffindor said. “Yeah, Harry, I know that you said you’re only training the Ferret because you nearly sliced him up, but you don’t think he bloody planned it that way? You’ve been calling him a Death Eater all this year, and now suddenly you’re teaching him how to fight and you’re best mates?”

“It’s not like that, Ron,” Harry broke in. “He couldn’t have planned that attack. I told you, even I didn’t know what that spell did. And Malfoy was in the Hospital Wing all that day. You think he got himself hurt on purpose?”

“What I think,” the Weasel said with a sneer. “Is that the bloody Ferret saw an opportunity like any true Slytherin snake would, and used it to his advantage. I think he’s using your bloody guilt to help himself become stronger than you, and then when all of your defenses are down, he’ll hit you with a _Stupefy_ and carry you to You-Know-Who to make up for all of his daddy’s wrongdoings. He only wants to sell you out so that he can get the bloody prize himself.”

Harry actually began shaking, his face going red with anger. “You know nothing, Ron. Draco isn’t like that at all.”

“You’re mental!” Weasley yelled. “Of course, he’s like that! He’s been nothing but a manipulative, lying, cheating snake all these years. And you thought the same thing too until he got inside your head a few weeks ago. Now you’re disappearing all over the place, not showing up to the dorms until after curfew or in the middle of the bloody night. This whole time I thought you were with some girl, or something, and I was wanting to give you space. If I had known it was the bloody Ferret that you’d been seeing all along —”

“Ronald!” Granger shrilled from behind him. “You had promised to hear them out. We already agreed that Malfoy didn’t have Harry under Imperius, and we had gone to Madame Pomfrey about the love potion idea. She cleared him free from any potions or spells that could’ve been altering his behavior.”

Draco glanced at Harry, who suddenly seemed very interested in a nearby hanging tapestry. He frowned. _Stupid Gryffindors_.

“Yeah, well who knows what other dark spells that git learned from his daddy Death Eater? It could be something that we just haven’t seen yet, or something.”

Yeah, like my prick, Draco thought smugly to himself.

“Ron, Draco doesn’t have me under any spells. And he’s not my best mate, you are, you bloody git. We just agreed to a truce for now while I help him. I haven’t told him any of our secrets or about Dumbledore, so even if he was aiming for information like you think he is, there isn’t anything he can use.”

Fortunately for them, Draco mused with a frown. Yeah, he might be getting laid by him, but he was still no where near to Harry as Weasley thought they were. Or to what Draco wished they could be.

“You’re precious Order secrets are safe, Weasley,” Draco decided to break in. “He’s told me several times already that he’s unable to tell me things, and I’m alright with that.” Mostly. “We agreed to keep our trainings to just that, without conversations about the Dark Lord or the impending war coming between us.”

“How do you know there’s going to be a war?” Ron demanded.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“He’s the one that gave me the information about it, Ron,” Harry said.

“You mean,” Granger said. “Malfoy is the informant? Not your vision?”

“Erm, yeah,” Harry said, looking sheepish. “I told you guys and Dumbledore that because I didn’t want you asking questions at the time. But yeah, Draco is the one who warned me about what Voldemort is looking for and what he’s planning.”

“What if the Ferret is lying?”

“I’m not,” Draco said, suddenly having enough of all this back and forth. “I may not totally agree with your views about Muggles, Weasley, but contrary to what you may think, I don’t actually want to fight in this war.”

“No, you just want to run and hide —”

“Preferably yes,” Draco admitted, taking the time to relish the shocked look that Weasley and Granger gave at his blunt admittance. “If it was possible, I’d take my mother and flee to France away from all of this rubbish. I don’t want to be some fighter and lay down my life for some stupid cause, unlike you Gryffindors. But, as Harry had already schooled me on how that’s not a viable path that I can take, I’m doing this instead. I already gave him the small amount of information that I knew he would need for this war, and now I’m training with Harry so that if I do get in the middle of crossfire, I can fight my way out and then eventually flee to safety.”

He looked at the other two, willing for them to understand his actions and reasoning for associating himself with Harry. “Whether you believe me or not, I honestly don’t bloody care. But you care about Harry, and he cares about you. And he’s going to need your support in this war. So, if you could just stop giving him a bloody hard time about what he chooses to do in his free time, and understand that I’m not tricking him into doing anything for me concerning the war, that’d be bloody fantastic.”  

He didn’t think that his speech would actually make them all best mates, but Draco was honestly sick and tired of Gryffindors butting into his time with Harry. If he had his way, he’d ignore Granger’s shocked face and relish in the Weasel’s anger as he threw their bloody Chosen One onto the table and shagged him right in front of them. It’d be a great way to go, coming into Harry’s tight arse right before he was _Avada Kedavra’d_ by Weasley. Better than being taken out on the battlefield, in any case.

Caught up in his own wild musings, Draco almost missed the look of pride Harry threw at him, or the wary acceptance Granger was also giving him. He did hear the grumblings of Weasley, though, and he rolled his eyes at the Weasel’s sheer obviousness.

“Well, while Harry is training you, he could instead be helping Dumbledore look for more hor —”  

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione yelled, catching the redhead by his arm. “Malfoy is trying here. The least you can do is try and act like you understand his reasoning. He went to great lengths to tell Harry what he did, and he probably risked his life doing so, too.” She quickly turned to Draco then, eyes intense and bright with intelligence.

“And you! While I understand your actions a bit more now, and I’m glad that you don’t seem to want Harry for nothing else other than to help you with spells” — Draco inwardly smirked — “You also can’t just expect us to believe that you’re all changed now. You bullied us for more than five years, Malfoy. You called us names, tried to get us into trouble, and you were an all-around jerk to us all the time. I get that you were mostly doing it to get Harry’s attention,” she said, and Draco nearly spluttered, his eyes wide with incredulity. “But your actions made us all really hate you, Malfoy. You may have had a little more time with Harry, but this is the first time I’ve interacted with you and you’re not throwing Mudblood insults at me.

“Unless you actually apologize to Ronald and I — and we’ll agree to leave Harry’s choice to help you alone, for now — you’ll always be our enemy. Your friendship with Harry won’t have our blessing, but we do understand a bit more where you’re coming from.”

While Granger spoke, Draco kept silent and watched Harry, who stood right behind her. He could tell that Harry wanted to jump in and defend Draco, but the stupid Gryffindor git was having trouble deciding whose friendship mattered to him more.

Draco knew the obvious answer, knew that he would always come second to the other Gryffindor duo. Nevertheless, he hated seeing Harry torn like that. He would never make the boy choose between them, mostly in fear of the decision he’d inevitably make, but also because he knew that the Gryffindors were really important to Harry. He was telling the truth earlier when he said that Harry would need those two at his side during this upcoming war. And who was he to break up the Golden Trio?

“I apologize.”

The Weasel and Granger had turned to leave the room after the Muggleborn’s little speech, but they stopped at Draco’s words. Harry, too, was gazing back at Draco in astonishment.

“What did you say?” Weasley asked. “I didn’t hear you, perhaps if you were louder?” He ignored all three glares being thrown at him as he smirked at the blond.

Clenching his jaw, but willing to show everyone again how much of a better person he was than Weasley, Draco repeated his words. “I apologize. For everything.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Ronald!”

“I’m sorry I called you a Mudblood, Granger,” Draco continued through gritted teeth. “And for assuming that your… home, Weasley, was unfit for inhabitance. And Harry,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for ever insulting your parents. My actions are inexcusable and maybe even unforgiveable, but I was a different person back then. I was a child… well, still am a child but a bit more grown up, I’d hope. My father was a great man and I put too much faith in all of his teachings back then, but now I see him for what he really is. He’s just another one of… V-V-Voldemort’s followers.”

And Draco inwardly beamed at Harry’s shining eyes on him, ignoring the other duo’s twin gasps.

“I had this idea of a world ruled by purebloods, and everyone else of lesser stature not being worthy of magic. It took Harry cursing and then befriending me to open my eyes and to finally see the truth. I still made the choice on my own, but with Harry’s help I made the choice to refuse to follow my father in his footsteps.”

Draco decided to end his speech there, feeling weary and worn out all of a sudden, and unwilling to actually voice out the words of his switching to Harry’s side to them. They didn’t need to know all of that right now. He just needed them to understand that Draco wasn’t going to be a threat to Harry, so that they could just leave the two of them alone.

He turned away to sit on one of the sofas, ignoring how Granger turned to whisper quietly to the other two. Whatever she was saying, Draco only hoped it was good things and that it ended with the duo finally leaving Harry alone.

He decided to drink some tea to calm his nerves, since it had already been prepared earlier. It was still hot, thank Merlin for small joys, and the tea did help a bit as Draco sipped at it.    

It was a few minutes later when Granger, Weasley, and Harry came over to join him on the sofas. Harry chose to sat next to him while the other two sat across.

“Tea?” Draco offered, putting his cup down and wishing the room for a few more.

Granger nodded. “Please.”

Draco poured tea for all three of them before sitting back with his own. Everyone sat for a moment in the silence, sipping their teas and musing over their thoughts.

Draco was grateful for the silence, hardly believing a room filled with mostly Gryffindors could stay quiet for more than a few minutes.

Granger eventually broke it as she cleared her throat.

“Thank you for the tea, Malfoy, and for what you said. We’re grateful you were able to tell us more about your intentions with Harry. And while I don’t agree with you entirely, I think I understand your decision to have Harry help you a bit better now.” She gave him a look of sympathy. “As for your apology, I don’t know if I can forgive you just yet for all the ugly names you’ve called me and all the hatred that has spewed out of your mouth over the years. _But_ , I am willing to try. This war of V-Voldemort’s is only going to get worse. We can’t spend any more energy on fighting with each other. If you’re willing to make a truce with Harry, we’ll honor that.”

Draco nodded, his gaze praising as he looked at Granger. “Thank you,” he said.

Granger gave him a half smile. “I just hope all this time spent helping Malfoy is worth it,” she said, throwing a glance at Harry.

The Gryffindor’s face was serious as he looked at them all. “It is, Mione. Totally worth it.”

Weasley looked a bit nauseous at that, but Granger gave Harry a contemplative look. She glanced at Draco again, her eyes searching. Whatever she’d been looking for, she must’ve found; because to his surprise, she gave him an even softer smile.

“Alright, Harry. We’ll leave you two alone.”

With nothing more to be said, Granger and Weasley stood to leave. Harry saw them to the door, whispering them all the while his thanks.

Draco watched them go, silently musing as he waited for Harry to return to him.

A few minutes passed until Harry walked back into the room, smiling widely. He joined Draco onto the sofa and pulled the blond close to him as they finally relaxed together in the room.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to Draco’s forehead. “There’s so much that has happened in our past. So much hate and bickering. I’m glad we’re finally able to get over all of that, and that Hermione and Ron are willing to, also.”

“Weasley didn’t say much at all at the end,” he snorted.

“He’ll come around,” Harry said. “He cares about me, so he’s just scared. We’ll just have to show them that you’ve changed.”

Draco was silent, thinking of the cursed necklace and the poisoned mead.

“Now that we’re alone now,” Harry said, his voice turning sultry. “I think you’d better put back our bed. After that little speech you gave, I’ve been hard for you ever since.”

That snapped Draco out of his sullen musing.

He gave Harry a sly grin as he rose with Harry. He wrapped his arms around him, reaching with both hands to dig his fingers deeply into his messy black hair and ruffling it.

Harry smiled, amused. “Like my hair?”

“Messy as it is, the just-shagged look suits you,” he purred. “I don’t even think Granger noticed that you hadn’t brushed your hair before leaving this morning.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “The ‘just-shagged look’? That’s what you describe my hair now? I happen to recall it being called a bird’s nest in the past.”

“That was before you had your mouth on my cock,” Draco smirked, quickly imagining their room back to the way they had it. His grin grew at the reappearance of the bed. “Speaking of…” he said, arching an elegant eyebrow and walking over to stand by the covers.

He began to unbutton his shirt.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried over to follow Draco, ripping his shirt over his head and tugging down his trousers, struggling to kick them off as he crawled inelegantly onto the bed.

Draco laughed loudly at him, naked now and hard cock jutting from his curls. Harry reached over and grabbed Draco to pull him on top of him.

Draco was still laughing at him until Harry aligned their hard lengths and pressed them together. He began to tug at them at a rapid pace, and soon Draco’s laughter turned into soft moans that echoed through the room.     

Yes, Draco thought. Totally worth it.

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Sexual Warnings Above

June 4

 

For the next week and a half, the boys passed their mornings going to classes as usual, ignoring each other the same way they had all year, and concentrating on maintaining the facades that everyone other than themselves knew. 

In the evenings in their Room, all of that changed.

Whenever the boys weren’t training, and growing in strength from practicing their spells and trying new tactics to navigate their way through a duel, the boys spent most of their time exploring additional ways to make the other boy moan and cry out with ecstasy.  

“Harry! _Oh_ _Merlin_ , YES!”

Tonight was no different.

After performing the necessary cleaning charms, Harry was making sure he made Draco cry out a bit louder this night. He looked up from where his tongue was currently stroking the inside of Draco’s red, puckered hole, pleased to see Draco’s flushed face and clenched eyes above him near the headboard.

“Harry! Please, please, I’m ready!” Draco gasped, pulling behind his own knees with both hands, moving them higher in the air. “Just fucking do it already, Potter!”

Harry gave a dark chuckle, licking a long and hard stripe against Draco’s gasping hole, reveling in the loud cry that followed. “Had enough, Draco?”

“Yes, _yes!_ ”

Harry stopped tonguing the blond’s arse. “So, you admit that I won that duel fair and square?”

Draco groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. “You are the absolute _worst_... uh…!” His words died on a guttural groan as Harry’s tongue went back to work. “Yes, yes, _Merlin yes!_ ”

Harry grinned, delighted as always at Draco’s lovely reactions. The boy was very vocal in bed, which had been a wonderful surprise to Harry. He loved seeing the blond so quiet and reserved during the day in classes, then seeing him flushed and energetic during their trainings, before finally breaking him apart and making him scream in bed. It was an addiction Harry was quickly coming to love.

He finally stopped torturing the boy’s gorgeous, swollen hole and sat up, ignoring the blond’s beautiful cry of frustration. He grabbed the jar of lube that was placed next to him, and reached in to scoop a handful to rub onto his length. He tugged at himself a few times, before scooping out some more and pressing one finger into the heat of Draco’s body. He moved his finger gently in and out, before adding a second. He began to scissor them inside carefully as he looked up the pale length of the blond. He met Draco’s grey eyes, and felt mesmerized at the mix of shining tenderness and wonder that flared inside them.

All this week, the boys had done nothing more than suck and taste one another. The closest they had gotten to actual penetration was when Draco had leaned against Harry’s front and rocked his length between the other boy’s arse cheeks. They hadn’t meant to wait this long, but between trainings and homework, they had been either too stressed or tired to attempt it.

But today, Harry had entered the room before Draco. It wasn’t often that the blond was late, but it did happen. Harry figured that since it was the blond’s birthday, he was enjoying some time with his friends in the Slytherin Dungeon. Harry had thought to stop by Hogsmeade to buy a gift for Draco, but the other boy had refused to hear of it. He only wanted one thing for his birthday, and that was Harry himself.

While Harry was pleased that his mere presence made Draco happy, he still wanted to do something for the blond. He tried to think of what to do for someone who had nearly everything at his disposal. Physical gifts would’ve been hard to find anyway, because no matter what it was, Draco was sure to have already bought it or could buy it himself.

Then Harry realized the perfect gift, and had run to the library straight after dinner.

So, now Harry was sitting on the sofa in their room and opening up his bookbag. While he searched amongst his textbooks and notes, thoughts of earlier events that had happened the night before on the very same sofa raced through Harry’s mind. They urged him to search faster until finally Harry found the book he’d checked out. It was titled, _50 Ways to Do It Right with Your Wizard_. How this book had managed to find itself into the school library, he’d never know. But Harry opened it up, and began researching.

By the time Draco had entered an hour later, Harry was in quite a state. Harry hadn’t even bothered waiting for Draco to greet him before he had swept the blonde onto the bed, ripped his cloak and clothing off, then proceeded to tell him, “Let’s do it.”

Draco was never one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth, so he went with it. And Merlin, was he glad he did.

Harry pushed in a third finger, curling them with his palm up, pressing carefully, searching for the beautiful bundle of nerves that the book had mentioned. Going by Draco’s shrill cry a few seconds later, he’d found it.

He slowly slipped his fingers out from Draco’s clinging heat, Harry grabbed his straining, weeping length and moved closer between Draco’s legs.

“You ready, love?” he asked, his eyes level with Draco’s gray ones.

Draco nodded, eyes burning and mouth dry as he stared at Harry’s luminescent green eyes above him. “Yes, Harry, want you inside me.” 

Biting his lip hard at Draco’s words, he took his length and guided the swollen head against the boy’s opening. He slowly, steadily pressed inside, clenching his eyes at the tightness he could feel all around the head of his cock.

Draco’s mouth dropped with a soft cry as he felt Harry’s thickness breaching him slowly, filling him all the way until his pelvis pressed against Draco’s balls. The stretching had burned, and he was suddenly glad that Harry taken almost half an hour of licking and fingering him in preparation.

Harry had to stop for a moment for a breather, otherwise he was certain he would come. Draco’s arse was still so tight, and wet. The warmth was nearly unbearable, and felt so perfect wrapped around him. Harry was immensely glad they had finally decided to do this, and only slightly upset that they hadn’t decided to do it earlier.

After a short while, the burning began to fade, and then Draco just felt the wonderful sensation of being filled. He let his legs relax some so that one wrapped around Harry’s shoulder while the other went around his waist. Draco was free to slide his hands along Harry’s chest, which was coated with a light sheen of perspiration. He moaned at the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him.  

“Alright, Draco?” Harry asked softly.

Draco looked at him and nodded. “Yes, please.” The words were barely out before Harry was already pulled back, and then pressing forward again. Draco’s eyes rolled up as he let out a low moan. “Oh yes,” he sighed, mouth hanging open. “Oh, yes, just like that. Oh, that feels perfect.”

Harry pushed in and out again, angling his cock as he thrust into Draco so that it could graze that spot. When it finally did, Draco keened and threw his hands back to fist into the sheets. “ _Merlin, yes!_ ” 

Harry tried to brush the bundle of nerves again, but only managed to hit it every other third stroke or so. Draco didn’t mind. The intense burn of magic cackled in the air around them, and the flood of sensations all around was nearly overwhelming the poor blond. Harry could feel it, too, like sparkling flashes of light that filled the air around them.

He began to move with more force, nearly pushing Draco’s head closer and closer to the headboard. Groans, gasps, and broken cries filled the room as Harry thrust more and more and _more_. Draco drew sobbing breaths, pleading and crying out to Merlin as Harry’s length filled him repeatedly. He finally remembered to lower his hand and wrap around himself, stroking in time with Harry’s thrusts.

Draco felt the pressure building in his stomach, and clutched tighter onto the sheets with one hand while his other began to move faster. Harry could feel Draco start to tighten, and felt his own balls drawing up hard into his body.

“Draco… close,” he gasped out.

Draco panted. “Yes, Harry, inside me.” Then he let go himself, and came with a loud, ragged cry of Harry’s name as he arched his head backwards. Thick streams of white spilled from him, splashing his stomach and some of Harry’s chest with his seed.

Harry hadn’t thought Draco could get any tighter, and he only managed a couple more thrusts into that tight, warm chasm before his own orgasm erupted explosively from him and into Draco. He managed a soft, broken cry of Draco’s name before rational thought simply escaped him. He fell to his elbows above Draco, just barely managing to avoid crushing him.  

“Merlin,” Draco sighed, his heart racing as he gasped for air. “I don’t think I have any energy to move. Ever.”

Harry wanted to laugh, but he was barely able to form any coherent thoughts. He did manage to turn a bit, collapsing beside Draco and slipping out of him at the same time. Draco groaned at the overextended nerves.

“Wow,” Harry breathed, when he was finally able to form words. That had been one of the most intense orgasms Harry had ever experienced in his life. “Happy birthday, Draco,” he said with a blissful sigh.

Tired and happily sated, Draco smiled back at him. “What a wonderful birthday it was,” he agreed, and looked dreamily at Harry. Merlin, there was nothing more beautiful than Harry. He would do anything for him, Draco realized. Because he loved him.

Merlin, he loved Harry.

A feeling of absolute giddiness washed over him in waves, mixing pleasantly with the already tingling aftershocks of his previous orgasm. Draco felt like smiling for days, he could barely contain it.

He turned to his side to face Harry, and realized the boy had already fallen asleep, with a soft smile on his face, too.

Draco gave a little delightful sigh and moved his head to lay on Harry’s shoulder. Their limbs would eventually intertwine overnight, but for now Draco was utterly relaxed. With his arms wrapped around Harry’s torso, holding him close, Draco joined Harry in sleep.

What a happy birthday it was, indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, I actually found a book very similar to what Harry had found in my own public school library in high school. I think someone left it in there by mistake though.... O.o So one could assume that might be the same case here.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

June 8

 

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry worked with Draco on improving his form while simultaneously teaching him how to move around silently during a wand fight. They’d soon moved onto nonverbal spells, which Draco had quickly mastered after only a few days, and then on to wandless magic.

Both Harry and Draco had to improve in this skill, so they took to the library for research — amongst other fun activities they managed to achieve in the Restricted Section. After almost a week of nonstop practice, Harry and Draco were nearly masters at wandlessly casting a variety of spells. It also helped when Draco had the idea to kill two owls with one stone; they practiced wandless magic during sex.

For their training one day, the boys learned how to wandlessly and nonverbally vanish mouth gags.   

“Try again, Harry,” Draco had sighed, as he relished the warm sensation of Harry encompassing his length. He was buried to the hilt of Harry’s arse while the other boy was bent over on one side of the sofa, and Draco struggled not to come at the sight of Harry’s hole clenching hard on his cock.  

Harry groaned through the gag and a sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. His hands were bound behind him so that he couldn’t summon his wand, and the gag in his mouth prevented him from speaking a single word. As much as the kinky objects were being used for educational purposes that night, Draco was sorely tempted to keep them and use them for future use. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, I couldn’t quite hear that,” Draco said, closing his eyes while he enjoyed the beautiful sight before him. “Could you possibly speak louder?” A loud moan sounded. “Why, yes, I do believe that you’re rather lucky to have me. Not many blokes catch my eye, Potter, but you were simply too irresistible to pass up.”

Harry growled, and tried to turn around to glare at him.

“Oh, that reminds me! In all that research that we did in the Restricted Section a few days ago,” Draco said, with a slight push into Harry’s heat. He ignored the moan that followed. “I found the recipe to brew Liquid Luck. I remember the ingredients very clearly.”

A deeper, louder growl.

“Oh, shush, you can wait. Now, the ingredients were very clear, if rather expensive and difficult to acquire. First, the list included Ashwinder Eggs, which as you know is quite essential to the potion, Felix Felicis. Next was the juice of a squill bulb, which I learned that they’re best harvested just as they flower. Fascinating ingredients, mind you. I’ve never seen a more complicated but worthwhile recipe. To think, all you really have to do is drink that lucky potion right before you meet the Dark Lord, and then you’ll surely get lucky enough to get a shot in and —”

“Draco,” came Harry’s raspy voice.

Draco’s eyes grew wide as Harry’s hands were suddenly unbound and gripping tight onto the sofa cushion below him. Harry turned his head to look at Draco, and his eyebrows were raised with a smirk on those beautiful lips.

“Fuck me.”

Draco had Merlin to thank for not releasing into Harry right then and there.

Then, the morning after Draco’s birthday, Harry had woken up to see Draco sitting up straight beside him, wand in hand, and wearing a wide, radiant smile.

“What is it?” Harry had asked, not being able to help himself in smiling at how absolutely happy Draco had looked.   

The blond only said one word. “Look.” And then he’d waved his wand, whispering so softly the incantation, “ _Expecto Patronum_.”

A bright, white light had illuminated the room, and Harry had to squint until he was finally able to see the ethereal form of a roaring lion pacing back and forth on the floor beside the bed.   

Harry’s mouth dropped, staring for a moment at the pacing creature and then he turned wide eyes at Draco.

“Yes, I know,” Draco sighed, and waved his wand to end the spell. “A lion. How utterly ironic.”

“Draco,” Harry whispered, both awed and unexpectedly flattered. “You cast the spell.”

“Yes, yes, an amazing feat,” Draco said, but he was smiling widely. “Only took hours of amazing sex for me to finally get access to a happy memory —”

“Of me,” Harry quickly pointed out, smug.

Draco groaned. “Arrogance is most unbecoming, Harry.”

But Harry ignored his ramblings, and pulled him closer so that the blond could settle on top of him. Then he proceeded to show Draco exactly how proud he was of him.

* * *

 

Today was the day Harry would finally teach Draco how to resist the Imperius curse.

Truthfully, Draco was a little bit nervous. He had every right to be. He knew Harry wouldn’t let any harm come to him while he cast the spell. He fully trusted Harry now, which was one of the only reasons why he’d let Harry cast this spell on him. Still.

Draco walked over to where Harry stood in the middle of the room, waiting with his wand at the ready.

“Are you ready, Draco?” Harry asked, wary. Draco took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright, so listen very closely. Whenever this spell is cast on me, I’m not sure exactly how I fight it off. It might be different for everyone. I always feel this calmness wash over me, like a soothing wave. And I know it’s not natural, so I don’t like it. Then I hear the command that tells me what to do. I hear it, but there’s this other part of me that doesn’t want to do the command; it even questions it. It takes a little while but I eventually just know not to follow the command, so I ignore it. Eventually, I’m able to break the spell.”

“So, you just ignore it?” Draco asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. He felt skeptical.  

“Er, yeah. Like I said, it might be different for everyone. So, I don’t even know if this will work.”

“So, voices and a soothing wave. Got it.”

“You still want to try it?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco said, serious. “Now I know a bit more on how to visualize blocking the command.” Draco breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and waited for Harry to cast the spell.

Harry was still hesitant, but he knew that there wasn’t much he could do. Once Draco had made up his mind about something, he stubbornly followed through; in this case, the prat had tagged Harry along for the ride.  

Raising his wand, Harry stepped closer to the blond. He sighed, closing his own eyes as he inhaled. Softly but clearly, he whispered, “ _Imperio_.”

The wispy spell hit Draco, and Harry saw him give a little jerk before a peaceful expression smoothed out the boy’s features. It could have been Harry’s imagination, but he swore he could almost feel the calming sensation connect them through his wand. He thought he could feel a pulse beating, and after a second, he realized it wasn’t his own.

Harry waited a moment, gathering his bearings and trying to shake off the sudden awareness of hearing Draco’s heartbeat in his mind, before he said the first command. “ _Jump_.” He held his breath as a moment passed, and then he watched as Draco scrunched his face in concentration. It only lasted a mere second though, before his expression smoothed out again and he jumped into the air once.

Disappointed, Harry thought of another command. “ _Touch your nose_.” The struggle lasted a little longer this time, but then he saw Draco’s left hand tremble, jerk slightly, then fly up to touch his nose.

He waited a bit longer, trying to give Draco time to prepare himself, before ordering him again. “Clap your hands.”

Harry expected Draco to hesitate again, but then the oddest thing happened. Draco’s hands rose as if to clap, and then he stopped. Everything stopped. Draco actually looked frozen for how still he stood. He didn’t look pained, but he didn’t look all at peace either. His hands began to shake, and then they slowly lowered. Draco was breathing quite heavily now but he didn’t stop lowering his hands until they were resting at his side, clenched tightly in concentration.  

A bit hopeful now, Harry stepped a bit closer to Draco with his wand still aloft and pointing at him. “ _Hit me_ ,” he ordered Draco, bracing himself slightly.

He was a bit surprised to see Draco instantly pull back a fist so quickly. But then his whole body froze. It went faster this time, as Draco struggled against the curse. His face became flushed, with beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. His lips parted with a silent gasp, almost like he was in pain. He even let out a soft, wining gasp.

Harry’s heart raced, unsure if he should cancel the spell or not. Harry almost didn’t care if Draco mastered the spell, not if it physically put him in pain like this. But he waited, watching Draco as he struggled to fight it off.

There was a small, subtle movement and then Draco slightly leaned a bit to the right, lifting his arm slowly as he did. He barely managed to wave it around, missing Harry by a mile, but his weight shifted and he stumbled. He would’ve crashed to the ground but Harry was there to quickly grab him.

“Finite,” Harry said, grinning down at him. Draco’s vacant eyes cleared, and his body sagged into Harry’s with a groan.

“Fuck,” he cursed, leaning his weight onto Harry. His voice was raspy. Harry chuckled, and half-carried Draco over to the sofa so he could sit down. “Bloody hell, that was difficult.”

“What did it feel like?” Harry asked him. “Did you feel anything?”

Draco thought for a moment, seeming to try and clear his muddled mind. “It didn’t feel like what you’d said. There weren’t any bloody ocean waves or anything like that. Actually, it had felt warm when I heard your voice. I felt relaxed, too, like I was floating on a cloud with no worries or obligations. I heard your voice, felt the warmth, and I _wanted_ to obey. It such an odd sensation.”

“How’d you fight it?” Harry questioned. “I could tell you were struggling.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “I was, but I actually wasn’t fighting your voice all that much. After your first two orders, I could tell that wasn’t working. So, instead I used Occlumency.”

“Really?” Harry questioned, wonder in his voice. “But that’s extremely difficult magic.”

“Severus used to teach me,” Draco explained. “A few years ago, he helped me practice shielding my mind. I had no idea of why, back then, but it certainly came in handy over the summer break. Aunt Bella visited a lot and had me practice resisting her,” he added, his voice lowered.

Draco noticed Harry’s eyes darken at the mention of her, too.

“When I shield my mind during Occlumency,” Draco continued to explain. “I always visualize my old childhood bedroom, except there are no windows and just one door to enter. I compartmentalize every important thought that I have into this trunk that I keep within my wardrobe. Then I imagine myself locking it inside before walking out and locking my bedroom. So, that’s what I did,” Draco said, grinning. “Whenever you told me an order, I used Occlumency to hide in my room. Your words kept pounding and pounding at the door, trying to get in. Your voice kept getting louder, too. But the warmth wasn’t as hot, and it was a bit easier shielding my mind that way.”

“Yeah, you stopped completely listening to my orders the last two times,” Harry said.

“I couldn’t stop my body from moving entirely,” Draco said, musing out loud. “The spell still must have settled into my mind, somehow. But you’re right, I didn’t completely follow your orders either.”

“Well, you didn’t hit me,” Harry praised with a grin.

Draco snorted. “Not this time, under your orders anyway. Any other day, I might have.” But he kissed Harry on the cheek to take out the sting in his words.

“Hmm,” Harry sighed, his skin tingling wherever Draco touched. He was almost fascinated at the way Draco affected him so much. “I think a proper reward is in order, don’t you think?”

“But I didn’t exactly resist the curse —”

“Draco Malfoy, do you want to fuck or not?” Harry crudely demanded.

Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yes, you Neanderthal. Get in the bed.”

Harry threw him a wink and a quick grin, before running over and jumping onto the mattress to wait for Draco.

The blond stared after him, fondly shaking his head as he did, and walked over to join him.

Another step closer in becoming stronger and away from the Dark Lord’s influence — yes, he was definitely in need of a proper award.      

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Sexual Warnings above.

June 21

 

It was a bright Saturday morning, barely before noon, and Harry had just returned to the Gryffindor Common Room after his usual Saturday detention with Snape. He strolled over to the common room area, where he could see Ron and Hermione already returned from an early lunch and talking in front of the fire. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs, gazing at the fireplace, and feeling his sore muscles protesting from his earlier hunching over to clean several dozen potion cauldrons. By hand.

He tried to forget about Snape and his bloody detention, choosing to focus on the feeling of warmth from the dancing flames against his face. It reminded him a bit of how he felt when his cheek rested against the pale, heated skin of Draco’s back.

A low tingling sensation stirred below his stomach and he smiled softly at the memory of Draco’s luminescent gray eyes staring after him last night, just before they had to leave each other and go back to their dorms. He remembered the way Draco’s eyes had looked at him right before he’d swallowed Harry whole to the root. He remembered his gray eyes turning dark with lust as Harry had thrust into him, spreading his legs wide apart as he slammed his pelvis against Draco; his pale expression locked into a state of pained ecstasy as his hole squeezed Harry’s length.  

Fuck, now Harry was horny.

“Harry, mate? You alright?” Ron asked from the couch next to him, wearing a look of concern. “You look a bit pained.”

“Hmm, stomachache,” Harry murmured, trying to subtly make sure his robe covered his nether regions.  

Hermione tsked. “It’s probably because you skipped dinner last night, Harry. Were you meeting Malfoy again?”

Harry ignored Ron’s grumbling at the subject of Malfoy. Ron always had to comment whenever the blond’s name was mentioned, despite Hermione and Harry’s reassurances about the truce between all of them.  

“Yeah,” Harry answered, throwing a glance at Ron’s snort. “I skipped dinner so Draco and I could spend more time with his Patronus, practicing sending messages back and forth.” Harry didn’t mention how he had taken great care to provide Draco with a suitable pleasurable memory just for the occasion.

“Oh wow,” Hermione said. “He’s already conjured a Patronus?”

“Is it a Ferret?” Ron snickered. Harry glared at him.

“No, it’s a —” He stopped. Bloody hell, he couldn’t even tell them. Ron and Hermione would instantly know what Draco’s lion Patronus meant, not to mention the blond would be pissed if Harry told them. Trying not to blush too hard, Harry lamely finished with, “It’s not a Ferret.”

“Oh, what is it then?” Ron pushed, cackling. “If not a Ferret, maybe a peacock? That Manor of his has those birds all strutting around in the front.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked, half paying attention as she was reading a book while they all talked.

“My dad. When they had to inform Narcissa Malfoy of her husband’s arrest, the Aurors told the entire floor at my dad’s work. Everyone thought it was bloody hilarious, because Auror Jamison nearly got his eye pecked out for trying to get near them.”  He laughed uproariously. “Makes sense if his Patronus is a bloody peacock: he’s all about being self-absorbed and vain, and also bloody temperamental.

Hermione rolled her eyes with a huff, but Harry could feel himself turning red with anger.

“Shut up, Ron. You don’t know anything,” he said with a hard voice.

Ron’s laughing stopped, and the redhead turned a glare at his best friend. “What? But we always make fun of that git. That’s supposed to stop now that you’re all best mates with him?”

Harry nearly growled, and had to rein in his magic so that it didn’t lash out at his stupid friend. “Yes, Ron, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve gotten to know more about Draco in these last few weeks, so I don’t expect you to understand. But he’s like an entirely different person now.”

“He’s a Slytherin, Harry.”

He snorted. “That means nothing, Ron.”

“It means everything!” Ron cried. “You may be fooled by his act, but just him being in Slytherin proves that he’s cunning enough to put on some act for you.”

“How many times do I have to say it, Ron? It’s not an act. Just because he’s in Slytherin does not mean he’s evil. Hell, would that make me evil, Ron? Because I was almost sorted into that house.”

“Well, no, mate, that’s different —”

“It is not! All Draco’s ever known is Dark Magic and how to be the perfect Pureblood, and that was all from his dad. His parents raised him like that, much like a lot of others that are with him in Slytherin. Does that make them bad? No, it just means they weren’t taught any other way.”

Ron stared at him with a frown. “Mate, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not just teaching Draco about spells and how to defend himself. I didn’t make him join our side or convince him that his views are wrong. I’ve been teaching him how there is always another way. Draco Malfoy isn’t a bad bloke. He’s just… been misled.”

“Oh, so he’s not snarky and bloody full of himself?”

Harry hesitated. “Well, yes, he is, actually. He hasn’t changed that much, just his views on Muggleborns and hating Voldemort. He’s actually still a proud git most of the time.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you still see that in him, mate. Makes me feel better to know you’re not totally obsessed with a suddenly good, precious angel that’s named Draco Malfoy.”

“I’m not obsessed, mate,” Harry scoffed, ignoring the twin looks of exasperation thrown his way. 

“Well, infatuated then,” Hermione said, smirking.

Harry blushed, but Ron roared with laughter.

“Pretty much, yeah!” Ron said. “Glad we got you tested, otherwise I’d think you were half in love with the git.” He gave a grin to Harry. “Speaking of, all this time spent with Malfoy and Dumbledore, when are you gonna settle down and find a bird?”

A flush rose against Harry’s cheeks. “Erm —”

“Oh, shut it, Ron. Harry doesn’t even have time for that type of thing,” Hermione sighed. “He’s got to search for the rest of Horcruxes and focus on defeating V-Voldemort first. Then he can be with someone afterwards.”

Ron guffawed. “Afterwards? What about now? According to Malfoy, this war can start any day now. I reckon he should find a bird now before that all starts up.” He grinned slyly at Harry. “Then again, don’t all birds like the thrill of finding love in the middle of battle? I think it’d be nice to find some damsel witch in distress.”

Harry winced at how fast Hermione’s book closed and flew towards Ron, who barely had time to dodge it before she stood up.

“You are insufferable, Ron,” she said, glaring at him. “Did you ever think that Harry has priorities that are much more important than getting with some girl? You should rethink your priorities too, if you ever have hope of getting yourself a girlfriend.” Then she stooped to pick up her fallen book, before storming upstairs to her dorm. The door slammed behind her.

Ron turned wide eyes at Harry, frowning. “Bloody hell, what just happened?”

Harry rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed. “I don’t know, Ron, but I think you better apologize to her.”

Ron nodded, thinking absently. “Yeah, I reckon I should. I just don’t know what for, mate.”

Harry decided to leave him to figure it out. He ran upstairs quick, taking a quick glance towards the door to the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, before grabbing his schoolbag. Then he hurried downstairs and out through the portrait.

He decided to kill some time away from the Gryffindor Tower by finishing his homework in the Library. It would do him some good to catch up on work that he’d gotten behind in. Nearly every night was spent with Draco still, either practicing with him or having amazing, hot sex. Harry didn’t think he’d ever been this horny or come so much in his life than during these last few weeks combined. It was incredible spending so much time with the blond, but it also left him scrambling to finish his homework during the little time they weren’t with each other.  

Harry walked through the large open doors to the Library, heading to his usual table in the back away from prying eyes. Despite a mostly quiet year, Harry still hated the stares that followed him everywhere. It was unnerving, and he’d be glad once they eventually went away when he’d go home after Hogwarts let out. Although he’d have to be with the Dursleys for one more summer, Harry had planned to try and visit Grimmauld Place if he could. It’d be a nice safe haven to escape to anytime he got annoyed with the Dursleys. He was sure Dumbledore would understand and arrange for him to have periodic visits to the house.

An hour passed after his arrival to the library, and Harry had just finished two assignments for Transfigurations and Muggle Studies when a flash of white caught his attention. He turned his head to the left, and instantly felt blood rushing down to his length.

Draco was doing his own homework a few tables down, his quill feather moving rapidly against the parchment. His right leg was repeatedly tapping against the ground, meaning he was anxious about something, and a few strands of his hair kept getting loose and grazing the skin right above his ear. Draco left the touch alone for a bit before it got irritating, then he quickly brushed his hair back into place. But not a few seconds later, those same strands became loose and fell again.

Harry licked his lips as he stared, glad that Draco had changed his hairstyle when he was with Harry. He much preferred the non-slicked, loose style Draco wore during their meetings, especially when his hair was really mussed after a mind-blowing round of sex. Sometimes, Harry would purposely mess with the blond’s hair whenever the blond was too distracted or too far gone in his throes of pleasure. He absolutely loved fisting the blond strands whenever Draco went down on him, or when Harry took him from behind, or during the rare occasions he had to reach behind himself as Draco rimmed his hole.

Harry remembered when they had spent an entire Sunday just fucking each other to their heart’s content. He’d felt so fortunate to be young and have so many hard-ons in one day. The only thing that had stopped them from continuing further was that both of them had soon collapsed due to sheer exhaustion. And Merlin, were they covered in so many fluids that day; and Draco’s hole, which had been so red and puffy from disuse, was so wet from Harry’s last few times inside him. And fuck, Harry was getting hard in the middle of the Hogwarts Library, with dozens of students surrounding them.

The Gryffindor contained a groan as he forced his eyes away from the slight of the sexy blond, reaching to press his hardened length down and hidden away from any prying eyes. Fuck, the last time Draco and he had gone at it in the library, Draco had nearly seethed afterwards for almost getting caught by a first-year student. Harry knew Draco didn’t want to risk people finding out that Harry was seeing the son of a Death Eater, but it still rankled knowing they couldn’t express their feelings to each other out in the open.

He couldn’t wait for Voldemort to be vanquished already, so that the war would end and then he’d have Draco all to himself to fuck and enjoy for as long as he wanted.

“Thinking pretty hard there, Potter?” came a voice from above him.

Harry jumped, and glanced up to see Draco wearing a smirk as he stood in front of his table. Without waiting for an invitation, Draco pulled out his chair and settled down, rearranging all of his textbooks and notes as he started to continue writing his assignment.

“I could practically feel you undressing me while I sat over there, Potter,” Draco purred, not looking up and continuing to write. “To spare the eyes of innocent first-years, I thought I’d sit here to make it look less obvious.”

“But won’t other students find it odd that we’re sitting together?” Harry asked, his voice coming out a bit hoarse.

Draco arched an eyebrow. “No more odd than you giving me I-want-to-throw-you-down-on-this-table-and-ravish-you eyes.”

Harry groaned, and thumped his head onto the table.

“Besides, I couldn’t concentrate with your staring, Potter, and I came over here to tell you to stop it for the next fifteen minutes while I finish up. Then you can fuck me all you want once we get to our room.”

Harry groaned louder.

“Shut it, Potter,” Draco hissed, as they heard Madam Pince make a loud shushing noise in their direction. “You’ll draw more attention if you make any more noise. Now be a good little Gryffindor and stay quiet for a few minutes until I finish this.”

The scratching of his quill continued, and Harry listened to it as he waited for his erection to wane.

“Stop it, you’ll get your turn soon enough,” he whispered to himself.

The scratching paused.

“Are… are you talking to your prick?” Harry blushed, but didn’t say anything further. He waited, and soon heard the quill’s scratching resume. “You’re an odd duck, Potter.”

“But you love me anyway,” Harry said, finally sitting up and throwing Draco a boyish grin.

The blond stilled, the quill frozen in his hand. He looked at him, wearing a bright gleam in his eye as he stared across the table at Harry.

“Yes, I guess I do,” Draco said, with a soft smirk. He looked down and continued writing.

Harry’s mouth dropped, eyes wide as his entire body had stilled.

He’d wondered… but he never thought…. Did Draco really…? In the middle of the Library?!

“Draco,” Harry nearly gasped, his eyes soft.

“Not right now, Harry, I’m working.”

“Draco.”

The blond paused and looked at him.

Harry was smiling. Beaming, actually. But when he spoke, his voice was thick and hoarse with primal need.

“Hurry. Need you, right now.”  

Draco shivered at the pure lust in the other boy’s voice, and the scratching quickly started again at a rapid pace.

Harry smirked, and settled his head down to wait.

Forget Ron and his stupid comments. Draco Malfoy, proud and frustrating git that he was, was the best thing to happen to Harry in a long time. Those who thought any differently could jump off the bloody Astronomy Tower, for all Harry cared.

He couldn’t wait for Draco to finish his homework.

When Draco finally did, ten minutes later, Harry had nearly run out of patience. He grabbed Draco’s hand, ignoring the other boy’s spluttering, and walked right out of the Library and towards their room.

Too bad that in his impatience, Harry never saw a pair of icy, brown eyes already plotting as they glared after them.

* * *

 

“Oh _bloody_ FUCK, Draco!” Harry shouted, pounding harder into Draco’s arse from behind, hands gripping into the blond’s waist as he tugged him closer and closer onto Harry’s length.

Draco wailed as Harry brushed against the bundle of nerves inside him, and his hands fisted into the sheets. His hair was soaked with sweat, his blond strands matted against the sides of his face and over his eyes. He could barely see, barely breathe correctly as Harry fucked hard into him, his unforgiving grip on Draco probably going to add to the string of bruises already lining the skin of his hips.

But bloody hell, was it glorious. Draco loved how tender and romantic their lovemaking could be sometimes; when Harry would practically worship Draco’s body with his hands and lips, kissing every part of him as he slowly caused the blond to tumble down into bliss and oblivion. Sometimes he would even take hours making love to Draco, staying hard inside him until Draco had come at least three times before finally filling Draco with his own seed.

It was truly magnificent how much stamina the Chosen One had, and how insatiable he was every time Draco was near. If it hadn’t been for so many locking and silencing spells used during the day, Harry and Draco would’ve been found in quite a few compromising positions inside many unused classrooms.

And even though Draco cherished the way Harry showed his love for Draco through magical lovemaking sessions, Draco absolutely loved the way Harry would abandon all of his senses and simply bend Draco over any flat surface and just _take_ him.

Harry was a like some primitive animal in heat anytime he got into this certain mood. He just had to have Draco right then and there, either inside his hole or inside his mouth, and Draco always gave in every time.

There had even been one time when Harry had been so desperate to have Draco, that he’d fucked the blond in Slughorn’s potion storeroom during class.

Everyone had been working on their current potion, but halfway through preparing their supplies, Draco realized he had forgotten a key ingredient. He had left his partner, Blaise, and had gone inside the storeroom to fetch it. No sooner had he took the ingredient into his hand, did he suddenly feel a presence right behind him before the door suddenly clicked itself locked. Then Draco felt himself being forced over a nearby stool. It took him a moment of panic as his pants were suddenly shoved down his legs and his shirt raked up to expose his nipples to the cold air, when he finally turned around to see Harry’s green eyes staring heatedly at him. Draco had opened his mouth to demand what the hell Potter thought he was doing, when Harry’s lube slicked fingers forced themselves through Draco’s already previously loosened hole from just that morning. Both flabbergasted and horny as hell from Harry’s sheer Gryffindor nerve, he couldn’t stop him and suddenly Harry was fucking Draco within an inch of his life. Draco had to stifle his cries, biting hard on Harry’s hand that covered his mouth, as Harry pounded into his arse. Harry hadn’t even fucked him longer than five minutes before they had both come, explosively at that. And while Draco panted and recovered from the sudden bout of sex, Harry had cast several cleaning spells, lifted Draco’s pants and buttoned them, gave him a breathtaking kiss, lifted the spell on the door, and walked out. Not ever saying a single word to Draco the entire time.

Thank Merlin all Blaise had said when Draco had returned, walking on shaky legs and wearing flushed cheeks, was if he had remembered to get the chopped butterfly wings, not the minced ones.

And now, Draco was being fucked near to death, once again.

The sound of Harry’s balls slapping against the slick skin of Draco’s echoed throughout the room, along with Draco’s cries and sobs of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Draco, this tight hole of yours is bloody amazing!” Harry growled, hair flying wildly as he pounded and thrust and fucked his way into Draco’s arse.

“Yes, Harry! Yes yes _yes!_ You feel so good!” Draco cried, eyes shut in pleasure and head tilted backwards. “Merlin, you feel — oh!” The blond moaned, eyes shutting tight as Harry bit and sucked hard onto the back of his neck. “…feel so fucking amazing inside me! Fuck me, Harry, _fill me!_ Merlin, you’re so…! Uhh!”

“ _Fuck_ yeah, your filthy mouth is so good,” Harry groaned, slapping Draco’s arse cheeks.

Draco moaned, loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Then Harry pulled out his length all the way, turned Draco onto his side, spooned up behind him, and thrust his cock into the cheeks of Draco’s wet arse. In less than a second, he was back inside Draco, thrusting inside him as he spread Draco’s leg high into the air.

Draco screamed, reaching behind to fist Harry’s hair as he clung on for the ride of his life. Soon, phrases and words became reduced into garbled moans and growls. Harry bit Draco again, fitting his lips over the blond’s neck and sucking a deep love bruise into his skin.

Draco nearly screamed as he felt Harry reach down with his other hand underneath him and begin to pull hard and fast at his length. Overwhelmed with heat and pain and pleasure, the blond only lasted three good tugs until his back suddenly arched and a thin stream of white hit the skin of his stomach.

Draco’s head fell forward as he almost collapsed face first into the bed. He could feel Harry still thrusting into him, but he was so out of breath and woozy from the quick turn of events after the library, he couldn’t keep up anymore.

Harry growled as he finally released into Draco, a few minutes after he had felt Draco come. His length pulsing inside the boy’s warmth, Harry barely noticed that Draco’s body had gone still and was breathing steadily. Basking in the pleasure that only came from a very good and hard climax, Harry eventually pulled out. He winced as a string of white connected him to Draco. He fumbled for his wand beside him, but gave up after he saw it on the floor by the sofa. He decided to cast the cleansing charm wandlessly and silently, and simply waved his palm in a leisurely motion.

He chuckled, suddenly grateful for improving his own magic alongside with Draco.

After making sure that he and the blond were clean of any sweat and come, he flopped behind Draco, exhausted. He glanced at Draco’s face, which was turned facing away from him. His face was so relaxed in sleep, Harry hated to wake him from his unconscious state.

But he reckoned a few hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt. He wrapped an arm tightly around Draco’s smooth waist, hand pressed flat against the blonde’s bruised, hickey-covered and slightly scarred chest. Harry grinned sleepy in satisfaction, pleased that Draco never wanted to spell the bruises away that Harry always made. He seemed to love the possessive nature that the Gryffindor had. And Harry made sure to always kiss his bruises and scars softly the next day.

Harry stared at Draco’s face, transfixed at the sight of his beautiful, angelic features. Luckily, that image would carry itself into his dreams, it being the last thing he’d see as he closed his own eyes and slowly joined Draco into slumber. 

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Warning: For those who are a bit squeamish at Mpreg, there is a bit of that mentioned at the end of this chapter. But no worries, there's a reason I didn't put it in the tags. There is no Mpreg in Part 1 of this series.

“What do think you’d want to do? After Hogwarts, I mean.”

Harry twirled lightly with the top of Draco’s hair.

“Do you mean, _if_ I survive the war, what would I like to do after finishing my seven years of attending Hogwarts?”

“Yes, you prat. Don’t be melancholic.”

“Oh, I’m surprised you know a word such as that, Potter. I suppose you’ve improved your vocabulary largely thanks to Granger’s influence.”

“Hey, you prat!”

Draco laughed as he dodged a swipe aimed at his arse cheeks and pulled the covers up higher to defend himself. Harry mock glared at him, but soon settled back into his position against the pillow. Draco leaned against him again, tilting his head onto Harry’s sternum and continuing his exploration of Harry’s thin layer of chest hair. 

“So, if I survive the war and the wrath of both of my father and my aunt, not to mention the Dark Lord’s —”

“Draco.”

“— I think if it was up to me, I’d want to travel.”

“Travel?” Harry didn’t expect that. “Like around the world?”

“Well, not all over the globe. That would be a grand waste of time. Honestly, Potter. No, I would stop in France first, to visit the family Villa and land that we own in Provence.”

“Do you speak French?”

“Well, of course. _Je voudrais vous apprendre à parler français quand je vous emmènerai en France._ ”

Heat stirred underneath Harry’s stomach, and his eyes quickly grew warm as he looked at Draco.“Wow, that was… erm, amazing. What did you say?”

Draco grinned, and tilted up to press a kiss against Harry’s jaw. “You’ll just have to find out once you kill Voldemort, won’t you?”

“Cheeky,” Harry sighed, swatting at the blond’s bum.

Draco let out a light laugh. “After that, I’d travel more. Maybe to Italy, Russia, India. Hell, who knows. Then I’d return home to the Manor where I’d live the rest of my days in splendor.”

“What, no job?” Harry teased.

“A Malfoy such as myself is in no need of a career,” Draco half-sneered, jokingly. “Actually, I’d love to work in the field of Potions. I should probably ask Snape to apprentice me, if we ever get that chance. I’d work hard to become a Potions Master like him. All the while, I’d manage the Malfoy accounts and watch over the businesses and investments that my father is currently neglecting while in Azkaban. Although, I’m sure my mother is taking care of everything until I’m of age.” Draco paused. “In all actuality, if your side were to win this war, my father would probably stay in Azkaban, which would mean it would be up to me to bring honor back to the Malfoy name. My mother would agree. I’d have to marry some pure-blooded witch, mostly likely one that was birthed into the sacred families, and carry on the Malfoy name and fortune.” Draco’s grin grew rueful.

Harry frowned. “But would you be happy?”

“Happiness doesn’t matter, Potter,” Draco dismissed.

“But if it did,” he insisted. “Wouldn’t you rather have the first option? Traveling to Paris, Italy, Russia, and everywhere else. Then living a life in splendor. With all the riches of your ancestors in your vault as you retire from a life as Potions Master. If it was a choice, wouldn’t you rather pick that one?”

Harry’s gaze was so earnest, so naïve. Draco almost felt bad for thinking to tell him the realities of being a Malfoy. But none of it mattered in the end, what Draco wanted.

Harry didn’t need to know that though, not yet.

Draco heaved a heavy sigh, cursing himself once more for becoming soft. “Yes, I would rather do all that. Especially the part about maintaining my fortune.”  

“The rich life does suit you,” Harry agreed, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Well, of course,” Draco sniffed arrogantly, poking his nose in the air. Harry swatted him again, and Draco laughed, his proud pretense falling. “And what about you, Chosen One?” He said quickly, wanting to turn the conversation away from himself.

“What, after Hogwarts?”

“After you rescue the world from the evils of Voldemort, what will you do?” Draco asked.

Harry thought for a moment. “Hmm. Not sure. I've only ever thought about defeating Voldemort, not much about afterwards.”

Draco hummed, thinking out loud. “I think you would help restore the wizarding world after the war; help all the orphan children and the like. But once that’s all done, you’d go on to find and eventually marry your soulmate, have her babies, live in a cottage somewhere in the country, and continue your fight against evil unto your dying days. You’ll grow to be so old, I’ll still see your face in the papers a hundred years later. How annoying would that be,” Draco half-joked, but his eyes had dimmed a bit.

Harry frowned, also noticing the listlessness that had crept into the blond’s voice. “Well, I’m not sure about that having babies with a girl part, but I do like the sound of a cottage. And helping the war orphans.”

Draco looked up. “What are you talking about, Potter?”

Harry didn’t try to be coy. “What are _you_ talking about, Malfoy?” he questioned.  

“You’re supposed to go off and marry a witch, have 2.5 children, and live in some ramshackle love nest with her.”

“Oh really?” Harry said, bemused. “On whose orders?”

“Your own! Harry,” Draco said, quickly sitting up to face him. “Harry, that’s what you’ve been wanting for years, isn’t it? A family of your own?”

“I told you in that confidence —”

“And I still haven’t told a soul. It’s what you still want, isn’t it?” Draco demanded.

Harry paused, thinking. “Yes.”

“Then —”

“But not with a girl,” Harry interrupted, gaze hard as he looked at Draco. “I don’t want a family with some random girl.”

“Well, that’s why there’s courting —”

“I would want that with you.”

Draco stilled. He felt his mouth gaping open uncharacteristically. “What?”

“I said, I want that with —”

“I know what you said, git! I meant… you said… family… with me…?”

Harry gave him a soft smile, reaching up to brush his hand against Draco’s cheek. “Yes, Draco. I do. I want to continue being with you after Hogwarts. I don’t want us to be over. You’re too… you’re so amazing, Draco. I’ve never met a person like you before, and I’m pretty positive that I never will. You’re so special, Draco. So brilliant. And you deserve to have a life filled with happiness. I want both of us to live our lives the way we want once the war is over. Together.

“All the traveling that you want to do? It sounds amazing, especially if I could join you. We’d take a break together away from everything once the war is finished. And then everything else could fall in place right after. Family, the orphan children, a cottage… the works.”

Draco stared at Harry, not quite believing what he was hearing. Harry was thinking of an “after”, which included _him_.

“What are you saying, Harry?” he whispered, heart pounding and the hole in his chest filling with hope.

Harry kissed Draco, trying to pour out everything he felt into his kiss. Their lips slid together, a slow heat filling the both of them as they lay there kissing. Harry broke the kiss, and his green eyes glowed.

“I love you, Draco. I want to be with you. Even after Hogwarts. Forever, if you’ll have me.” Harry finished with a soft sigh, glancing at Draco as he waited for the blond to recover.

And Draco needed those few precious moments for his heartbeat to steady from its rapid pace. His heart thudded so loud, he could nearly hear it in his ears. That hole in his chest from earlier, bleeding and open that it’d been a few weeks earlier, felt so full now; filled to the brim with wonder and awe and Harry. It nearly hurt from how much love he could feel contained inside it now. He felt so full, body and soul, as he looked into Harry’s wondrous gaze.

Merlin, he loved this boy. This Gryffindor, lanky, pale, green-eyed boy with knobby knees, wild black hair, poor spectacles, and beautiful cock. Harry Potter wasn’t a man yet, but Merlin did Draco want to be there as he grew into one. He wanted to be with Harry every step of the way. He wanted to help him defeat Voldemort, win the war, and then stand at his side as he faced a peaceful Wizarding World. He wanted that cottage in the country, where they could live with their pets, and maybe even adopt those 2.5 children.

Draco hadn’t even noticed his eyes had filled with tears until he felt Harry wiping away the wetness on his cheeks. Even Harry’s eyes were rimmed with red as he gave Draco a tear-filled smile.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco bit back a sob, and his hand flew up to clutch at his aching chest.

Merlin, it hurt so damn much. It hurt so good, though. He’d never known that pain mixed with pleasure, outside of sex, could feel so incredible like this. Like anything could happen. Like Harry and Draco could actually be together and do this.

He gave Harry his own tear-filled smile, although he was pretty sure it looked horrendous with his crying eyes.

Harry would disagree. He thought Draco had never looked more stunning and amazing.

“I love you, Harry,” Draco nearly gasped out, feeling his love for the Gryffindor spilling out from his very core. He couldn’t wait anymore and kissed the boy in front of him with tear-wet lips, wrapping his arms around his neck as he crawled into his lap. Harry didn’t mind. It was the best kiss Draco had ever given him. The most wonderful, amazing, perfect kiss ever to exist in the history of wizard kind.

And he said it back. Harry beamed as threw his all into the kiss, pulling the blond closer to him. Draco actually said those three perfect words to him word for word. Draco loved him back. They loved each other.

Life was so bloody perfect.    

* * *

June 23

 

Harry grinned as he left his last class, immensely relieved for the school day to finally be ending. He couldn’t wait to eat dinner, and then meet Draco again in their room. He’d been looking forward to seeing him all day, especially since the blond had mysteriously been absent from his last couple of classes. Harry wondered if he had gotten sick or if he had gotten stuck helping Snape rearrange his classroom again, or whatever he helped Snape with from time to time.  

Ron and Hermione walked beside him as they turned towards the Great Hall. Ron’s stomach was already growling before they’d even managed to sit down on the bench. Harry laughed, and Hermione threw Ron an exasperated look.

“Oh, Ronald,” she sighed.

Ron just waved her off, and dug into his food.

Harry stared at them fondly: Hermione munching softly on her food as she read from a book on her lap, and Ron digging into his food ravenously as if he hadn’t just eaten lunch a few hours earlier.

He sighed happily, and turned his gaze towards the Slytherin Table to look for that beautiful blond head of Draco’s.

He was confused when he didn’t see it. His eyes shifted back and forth all along the table, seeing no trace of Draco’s trademark blond hair. His eyes stopped to settle on Blaise Zabini, who sat alone from the other Slytherins and was merely gazing at his food. Zabini wore a smirk; one that was all too familiar to Harry, one that he knew was worn by people when they were up to something really dangerous or life threatening.

Ice formed in Harry’s veins as he continued to watch Zabini, and the Slytherin must have known someone was staring at him. The Slytherin looked up. His eyes instantly met Harry’s, and the Gryffindor nearly froze when he saw the pure maliciousness in the other’s brown stare.

Something was wrong, really wrong. Where was Draco?

“Harry?” came a voice.

Harry looked down at Ginny, not even realizing he had stood up from the bench.

“Harry, are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” Harry stammered, glancing up to look at Zabini again. The Slytherin was gone.

“Harry, are you sure —?”

“Erm, I have to go… Left something in the classroom,” Harry said, quickly grabbing his stuff and turning away from the table. He ignored the cries from the table and rushed out from the Great Hall.

He raced towards Gryffindor Tower, spat out the password to the portrait, “ _propitius eris_ ,” and hurried up the stairs to his dorm. Harry threw open his trunk and dug in until he found the map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!” he nearly cried, searching for Draco’s dot as the map appeared.

His eyes ran across the page, searching, searching. And froze.

Draco’s dot was firmly fixed in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

 

Harry flung open the infirmary doors, rushing inside and immediately searching for Draco. When he recognized blond hair out of the corner of his eye, he turned, and gasped.

Draco was lying in one of the beds in the main part of the infirmary, looking peaceful in his sleep. But his body was anything but.

His arms were covered with wraps, his right arm in a sling, and both of his legs were also wrapped and slightly elevated onto pillows. His face was bruised and cut up, with his bruised bottom lip looking like it just been recently healed.

It was obvious now that Draco wasn’t in a natural sleep, but had been spelled into a healing coma. His body was so still and so pale. It was eerie for Harry to look at him. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest reassured Harry that Draco was still alive.

“Draco,” he breathed, throat constricting as Harry stared at the blond lying unconscious on the bed. “Oh Merlin, Draco, what happened to you?” He hurried over to his bed, yearning to pull the blond close and comfort him, but knowing that that wasn’t an option.

With a quick wave of his palm, he conjured a chair and sat down, reaching over to lightly hold Draco’s unbandaged left hand. Tears sprang into his eyes as he caressed the skin of the blond’s palm, uncaring of the world around him. He didn’t care if anyone walked into the room at that moment and saw Harry voluntarily holding Draco’s hand. If anybody said something, they could stuff it. Harry wasn’t going anywhere.

“Mr. Potter?”

Harry hurriedly wiped his eyes before turning to see Madame Pomfrey. The Matron was frowning at him in a bemused manner.

“Mr. Potter, may I ask why you feel the need to burst into my Hospital and disrupt my patients?” she asked him.

Harry had the grace to blush., but he refused to feel bad about hurrying to Draco’s side.

“I…erm, found out Malfoy was in the Hospital Wing and er, wanted to come by and see him…?” Even to Harry’s ears it didn’t sound believable. Madame Pomfrey didn’t look convinced either.

“Your rivalry with Mr. Malfoy is infamous, Mr. Potter. If you’re here to start trouble —”

“No!” Harry cried, startling the Matron. “I mean, no, I’m not. I just wanted… I’m here for Malfoy.” He glanced back at the blond, hating himself for wanting to cry at the sight of the broken boy. “What happened?” he asked her.

Madame Pomfrey frowned at him, considering. “It’s not my place to break confidentiality with a patient —”

“Fine, fine,” Harry said quickly. “But… I mean, just tell me if he’s going to be ok.”

Madame Pomfrey looked surprised at the pleading note in his voice, and that was probably the only reason why she said anything further.

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy will be fine. I healed the broken bones and the majority of his bruises. Other than that, most of his wounds were merely superficial. Now all he needs is rest and some quiet.” She said the last part sternly, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry was too busy sighing with relief to notice. He glanced back at Draco.

He was going to be alright. Broken bones and bruises, but nothing ruptured thankfully.

Not caring if Pomfrey saw, he held tighter onto Draco’s hand as he bent over and kissed it.

Madame Pomfrey did indeed see it, and her eyebrows flew upwards at the sight.

Well, that was quite a development. She wondered if Albus knew.

Unnoticed by Harry, she walked back into her office to make a quick fire-call to the Headmaster.  

* * *

 

Harry was in heaven. He had to be. Everything was so silent, and so white. But he was surrounded with warmth and comfort. Someone was playing with his hair, and Harry just smiled in contentment, because he knew he was loved. And he returned that love. He loved the hand stroking him. He loved everything about him. He loved Draco.

Draco.

Harry’s eyes shot open, and he looked up.

Draco was awake, and his hand lowered from where it had been stroking Harry’s scalp. His grey eyes shined a bit dully as he looked at Harry, but his eyes were open. Draco was alright.

Harry grinned, tears springing into his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Draco rasped back. “You’re here.”

Harry looked at him fondly. “Of course, I’m here, love. Where you go, I go.” He grinned, grateful when the blond returned it with one of his own, and Harry’s hand clenched tighter to Draco’s. He was pleased when he felt a soft response back. “Draco.”

“Harry.”

“What happened?” he asked, uncertain he wanted to hear the answer.

Sure enough, Draco’s eyes darkened. “Apparently, I was pushed down the stairs.”

“Pushed?” Harry yelled. “By who?!”

Draco shook his head once. “Shush, Harry, or you’ll get kicked out.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Harry said sternly, grabbing tight to Draco’s hand, but he did lower his voice. “Now tell me, who was it?”

“I’m not sure,” the blond said. “I honestly didn’t see who did it. I was just walking up the stairs to one of my classes… I… I don’t actually remember which one,” he said, squinting his eyes a bit. “I just remember stairs. I don’t even remember the fall itself, just that I woke up at the bottom in pain. I’m not sure how long I’d been laying there, but everything had hurt. A few minutes passed, I’m not sure exactly how long, but some third year had finally wandered by and saw me. Next thing I know, I’m in the Hospital Wing being healed by Madame Pomfrey.”

“Were you able to talk to her?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “Yeah. She gave me some pain-relieving potions and I managed to tell her what happened. She sent a note off to my mum, and then gave me a sleeping potion. Next thing I know, you’re here.” Draco gave him a tired smile. Harry returned it.

“Merlin, Draco, I’m so sorry,” he sighed shaking his head.

“Sorry? For what?”

“I should have noticed that you hadn’t attended classes,” Harry said, pissed at himself. “I should have been able to recognize when my own boyfriend is in danger, and gone to check the map earlier before dinner —”

“’Boyfriend’?” Draco asked, his voice a bit breathless. Harry looked at him, pausing his rant.

“What?”

“Boyfriends. Is that what we are now, Potter?” he asked, a coy smile growing on his lips.

Harry sighed, almost rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to apologize, and that’s the only thing you hear?”

“Answer the question, Chosen One.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, and Draco was eerily turned on at the fact that Harry was already picking up on that mannerism from him.

“The one about us being boyfriends?” Harry smirked. “Well, after you fucked me back after that first time, I just naturally assumed that we were in a committed relationship.”

Draco grinned widely, but it was quickly wiped off as he heard a loud crash in the room. Harry stood quickly, and hurried over to where the sound came from.

He was dismayed to find Pomfrey hurriedly cleaning broken glass that may have been an empty potion flask. The Matron frowned at him.

“Mr. Potter, what you do with Mr. Malfoy in your free time is no concern of mine,” the Matron said, flushing only slightly. “As long as you’re using the standard precaution spells, of course.”

“P-Precaution spells?” Harry squeaked.

Her eyes grew round. “Of course, Mr. Potter. Have you not…?”

“We didn’t know,” Harry said, dread filling him. Then he remembered himself. “Wait, but we’re men. What do we need protection spells for?”

The Matron huffed, and stepped over to where Draco laid on the bed.

The blond was wide eyed, but relieved to see Harry still in the room. But both boys stilled as Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at them a few times, observing the multicolored glow of spells that surrounded him. Seeming satisfied, he Matron tucked her wand away.

“Well, you’ve been lucky so far,” she said. “No diseases of the sort and no abnormal entities in either of your magical cores.”

“Diseases…?”

“Entities?”

Madame Pomfret let out a huff. “Although we are unable to contract most Muggle diseases, there are still a few muggle ailments that wizards born with muggle blood may develop. They are liable to spread these amongst other wizards and witches. Furthermore, male pregnancy may also develop.”

“Wh-what? But we’re males!” Harry cried in disbelief. “Not even _magic_ can change that!”

“On the contrary, Mr. Potter, that’s exactly why it may. But, luckily for you there hasn’t been a case of male fertility in centuries, Mr. Potter.”

“But then why…?”

“It can still happen, of course. Although there’s been no official cases of a male giving birth, there have been many times when a wizard has become pregnant. It’s just rare that they carry the fetus to full term. You’re exactly right, Mr. Potter. The male anatomy is still not capable to reproduce a fetus successfully, unless with the aid in magic. Wizards have tried over the years, and so far, there have been no official cases. It does not mean it is impossible, however.”

“So then, how does a wizard become pregnant?” Draco asked, his voice a bit shaken. “I’ve never heard of any such thing.”

“Once again, Mr. Malfoy, it’s very rare but not unheard of. It’s only possible with a very large and powerful magical source,” the Matron answered, frowning down at the boys. “In certain cases where a fetus has successfully been created, the wizard had either taken a potion, entered into a very powerful and ancient bond with the other father, or altered their body using a combination of glamour spells, polyjuice, or other sort of magical body modification; as with those who are Metamorphmagi. Again, none of these have produced viable results, but it is still possible.”

“And how long did they manage to carry…?” Draco asked, unsure of how to word the question. But the Matron understood.

“The longest case of a wizard carrying into term was thirty-weeks, or eight months approximately.”

Harry eyes felt like they were about to pop from his head, for how round they grew the more Madame Pomfrey spoke about male pregnancy.

He glanced at Draco, pleased to see he wasn’t the only one affected. The blond was paler than when Harry had first entered the Hospital. And no wonder.

Merlin, if either of them had become pregnant, it would’ve most likely been Draco. Yes, Harry had bottomed for him a few times, but they both generally preferred Draco as being the receiving one.

Harry was really glad both of them were safe though. He’d never thought that magic in the wizarding world could amount to that much. But he shouldn’t have been surprised, Harry thought sardonically with an inward eye-roll. Magic could do about nearly anything, apparently.

“Boys,” the Matron’s voice interrupted, both boys startling as they realized they’d forgotten her presence for a moment. “Headmaster Dumbledore will soon be here, to speak with both of you about this recent turn of events.” She eyed them warily. “I trust you’ll be using precaution spells in the future?” Both boys dumbly nodded. “Good. I’ll be back shortly.”

Then she walked off, leaving a pair of stunned boys in her wake.

 

 

  *I would like to teach you how to speak French when I take you to France.

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Five minutes later, Harry was still trying to wrap his head around the whole _male pregnancy_ concept.

Draco had been watching him ever since Pomfrey had left. The blond seemed to have adjusted to the idea of it pretty quickly, and a few things concerning the historical Malfoy ancestral diaries suddenly made sense. Draco wasn’t nearly as surprised as Harry, and so he found it quite amusing as he stared at the other boy as he worked through his mental breakdown.

Not much longer, light footsteps could be heard and the boys looked up to see Professor Dumbledore walk into the space. The old man grinned at them, eyes twinkling.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said cheerfully upon seeing them.

“Evening, Professor,” Harry greeted quietly, still a bit irked from the earlier events.

Dumbledore smiled. “Quite an interesting one, to say the least.” With a quick wave of his hand, he conjured his own chair farther down at the foot of Draco’s bed. He sat down gingerly. “We have much to discuss,” he began, eyes intense on the boys. “I’d rather we have our conversation here while Mr. Malfoy recovers, than in those uncomfortable chairs in my office.”

“But sir, the other patients?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore smiled. “Mr. Malfoy is Madame Pomfrey’s only patient at the moment. But if it helps you feel more comfortable, then of course, I shall set a silencing spell.” With another quick wave, the three wizards were encompassed into their own privacy bubble. “Now, Poppy insisted I visit due to a rather serious recent development.”

Harry averted his eyes, but nodded once.

Dumbledore smiled. He glanced at Draco.

The blond had turned his head entirely away from both wizards, shoulders stiff and his fists clenched as he fought to keep a neutral expression. He couldn’t flee the room, not until his body had fully recovered. Still, both wizards must have been able to hear the rapid pace of his heartbeat.

“I assume you know why I am here, Mr. Malfoy.” The blond stayed silent. “You were attacked at approximately lunch time, or right after. Is that correct?”

Draco gave a stiff nod.

“According to Madame Pomfrey’s report, you do not recall the identity of your attacker, nor any spells whom he or she may have used upon your person.”

Draco nodded again.

“That’s most unfortunate,” Dumbledore said, scratching the bottom of his beard. “Most unfortunate, especially since a spell had been cast on you.”

Harry looked up, and even Draco turned back to look at the Professor.

“What?”

“Exactly as I said. In her scans, Mr. Malfoy, when you had first arrived in the infirmary, Poppy found a recent spell that had been cast on your person. A truth spell, to be exact.”

Draco’s skin grew pale, his eyes wide. “What kind of truth…?”

“It’s much similar to the potion, Veritaserum,” Dumbledore answered. “But it is only short term and has the side effect of leaving the affected person a bit groggy. It also may lead to memory loss. It is not considered to be dark magic, but it is highly frowned upon and has been labeled as illegal by the Ministry of Magic. If a student were the one to cast this spell on your person, they would immediately be expelled.”

Harry glanced at Draco, trying to read his expression for any clues to what he may be thinking. But the blond was frowning in consternation.

“Do you have any idea as to who may have done this, Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore asked, looking at Draco. The blond bit his lip, but shook his head in answer.

“I might, Professor,” Harry spoke up.

Dumbledore turned to him. “Oh?”

“During Dinner,” he explained. “It was when I noticed that Draco had been missing. I’d looked at the Slytherin table, and I saw Blaise Zabini grinning.”

“Grinning?”

“I know it sounds weird,” Harry hurried to say. “But I could tell that it wasn’t normal. He looked like he knew something, and he looked straight at me as I was looking at the table for Draco. It was as if he already knew who I was looking for and what had happened to him. That’s what made me get a bad feeling and so I… er, hurried to the Hospital Wing.”

“Hm,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling as he stroked his beard. “Marvelous intuition, Harry. But extremely dangerous in accusing Mr. Zabini of an illegal spell cast upon Mr. Malfoy. Nevertheless,” Dumbledore added, holding his hand to stop Harry as he had opened his mouth. “I will call Mr. Zabini in for questioning.”

Harry sighed, knowing that was all that could be done for now. Still, if Zabini had attacked Draco, Harry wanted just one good punch in before the git was expelled and thrown in Azkaban. He glanced at Draco, to see how he’d taken the news.

But the other boy was still pale, his features almost looking feverish as he laid there on the bed.

Dumbledore must have noticed how overwhelmed the blond was, as well. The Professor quickly stood, giving a small smile at Harry as he did.

“Mr. Malfoy needs his rest, so I’ll take my leave now. However, we do still have some unfinished business to attend to. Rather important business, I’m afraid.” He turned to Draco. “Poppy tells me you should be able to recover overnight into tomorrow after plenty of rest. I wish our business could wait a bit longer until you were completely recovered, but time is of the essence. Therefore, I would like to speak with you more tomorrow, shortly before lunch. I’ll excuse you boys from attending your classes tomorrow. Draco needs to stay in the Hospital and recover until Poppy deems him fully restored. And Harry, I’d like for you to stay with him in the morning since this meeting also concerns you.”

He gave the boys one last grin, and then turned to vanish his chair behind him.

“Before you miss curfew, Harry,” he added, turning slightly before he left. “I suggest you reassure your friends of your sudden disappearance. Visiting hours is almost over, as well.” With that, eyes twinkling, the Professor left through the infirmary doors.

Harry sighed, slouching into his chair as he gave a breath of relief at being alone with Draco again. He considered Dumbledore’s words, musing over them in his head.

He figured Dumbledore was right. Any minute now, Madame Pomfrey was going to kick him out. He couldn’t leave Draco though, not overnight. There were plenty of times when the boys had slept apart over the last few weeks, but they dreaded it every time. And now, Draco had almost been killed. Harry didn’t want to take any chances.

“Hey Draco,” he whispered, thinking the boy had fallen asleep due his sudden quietness. But the boy’s eyes were open. Harry slipped his hand over his. “Draco?”

The blond barely stirred.

“Draco, what’s wrong? Do you need Madame Pomfrey?”

That seemed to bring some life into Draco’s eyes. He shook his head once, then glanced up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Stay?”

Harry smiled softly. “Of course. I’ll stay with you all night. But I need to return to the Tower really quick and tell Ron and Hermione of what happened so they don’t send out a search party. I need to grab my Cloak too, so I can stay here without Madame Pomfrey kicking me out.”

Draco sighed, but nodded in understanding. He pleaded for a kiss, though, begging Harry with his eyes.

The Gryffindor read him like a book and bent quickly to place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, straightening. “Quicker than you can say Quidditch.”

Then he flashed a bright grin before he left the Hospital Wing.

Draco stared at the doors of the infirmary morosely, wishing Harry would hurry. He felt an ache in his chest at the sight of Harry leaving him, even if it was just for a short time. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so attached to the reckless Gryffindor. He almost hated the pained feeling that nearly overwhelmed him at times, whenever he had to separate from Harry. He knew the time for their separation was only growing closer. He could feel it. It was like a panicky sort of sensation that made his heart race and his breath grow short.

He knew he would never leave Harry; he’d stay by Harry’s side always, if it was up to him. But Draco had a feeling that it wouldn’t be, in the end. He’d either be forced away by Harry’s friends, or his precious Order, or he’d be taken by the Dark Lord and his followers. Draco couldn’t let that happen, but he didn’t know what to do to prevent it from happening.

All Draco knew was that he had to enjoy what precious time he did have with Harry, before it was all too late.

He was near to sleep, but Draco yearned for Harry to return to his side quickly. He didn’t want to be alone.

Draco sighed softly, sleepily.

“Quidditch.”

* * *

 

“Where on earth have you been?” was the first thing out of Hermione’s mouth as Harry walked through the portrait hole. Harry saw her stand from where she’d been sitting on the couch in front of the fire. Over her shoulder, Ron was sitting on the chair beside her, not bothering to stand. He looked over at Harry with grudging curiosity.

“Hey Mione, I haven’t got much time,” Harry said quickly. He looked around to see the common room mostly empty, but there were a few Gryffindors around including Lavender and Parvati, who both giggled as they stared at him.

Ignoring them, Harry waved Hermione and Ron upstairs to the sixth-year boy’s dorm room, and the two followed him out of the common room area. Once inside the bedroom, he hurried over to his bed to grab his map and cloak.

“What’s going on, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Draco is waiting for me. He got hurt and is in the Hospital Wing.”

“Hurt?” Hermione asked, looking confused. “How?”

“We’re not sure exactly, but someone pushed him down the stairs right after lunch. We don’t know who it was, but I reckon I might know —”

“Could’ve been anybody, really,” Ron broke in. “He’s turned into a bit of recluse most of the year. You sure he didn’t just fall and is whining over a couple of scrapes?”

Harry frowned, trying to rein in his temper. “No Ron. It wasn’t an accident. He has to stay overnight in the infirmary.”

“But what do you care?” Ron demanded lightly, sounding genuinely curious. “Sure, he got a bit banged up. Why —?”

“Because I do care, Ron! I’d do the same for either of you.”

“But we’re your best mates, of course we’d all do the same for each other. Malfoy is —”

“A friend of Harry’s, Ron,” Hermione interjected, laying a hand on Ron’s arm. “We agreed to be considerate of that.”

The redhead snorted, but his shoulders slumped in resignation.

“Sure, yeah, whatever. I still say the Ferret has Harry wrapped around his prissy little finger.”

Harry ignored the flush that rose in his cheeks a bit at that. “Just leave it, Ron.”

“How long will you stay with him?” Hermione asked, eyes narrowed. “It’s already rather late. Visitor’s hours are probably over by now.”

Harry looked away, keeping a tight grip on the cloak and his map. “Er, I’m actually going to stay overnight with him. Keep him safe, you know?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Your heroic tendencies have gotten a bit far from you, mate. You don’t have to protect everybody who gets hurt around you.”

“Won’t you get caught?” Hermione broke in sternly. “Dumbledore will find out —”

“Erm, Dumbledore actually knows already. He visited Draco to find out what he knew or remembered.”

“Malfoy doesn’t remember who pushed him down the stairs?”

“No actually, it’s some side effect of a truth spell that had also been cast on him by whoever had pushed him.”

“Quite convenient, that,” Ron muttered.

The other two ignored him. “Dumbledore said it’s an illegal spell but that it’s not considered dark.”

“A truth spell that may lead to memory loss?” Hermione mumbled to herself, and the boys could already see the internal cogs working in her mind. Harry predicted she’d be visiting the library first chance she could. 

“Something like that. But now I have to hurry to Draco. He’s been alone for too long. He’s probably asleep.”

Ron rolled his eyes again, but that brought Hermione back to the conversation. She looked at Harry, her stance shifting from thoughtful to cautious.

“Harry, about that… You don’t think you’re getting too close to Malfoy?”

Harry had to quell the urge to just flee the room and go back to the Hospital Wing. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I know you think you’re his friend now —”

“We are friends, Hermione.”

“Yes, of course,” she corrected quickly, her hands wringing together. “But you don’t think….? I mean, it’s just a possibility, but you don’t think you two are becoming too close?”

Harry sighed heavily. “We already told you, Hermione. Draco isn’t about to press me on telling him about the horcruxes or about any Order secrets. And I’m not about to tell him.”

“No, no, of course not. That isn’t what I was thinking.”

“Then what is it, Hermione? I have to go. He’s waiting for me —”

“What if he likes you more than you think?” Hermione blurted, her eyes wide.

Ron stared at her, mouth gaping wide and his skin slowly turning into a green tinge.

“Hermione… wha—?”

Harry was really blushing now and struggling to keep his face as neutral as he could. “Mione, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We do like each other, that’s why we’re friends...”

“You know very well what I am talking about, Harry Potter,” Hermione said, tone brooking no argument. “I’ve seen the way Malfoy looks at you, Harry, when you’re not looking at him. And those looks? It looks like there’s a lot more than friendship that Malfoy has in mind.”

“Hermione, please!” Ron begged from beside her. “That’s disgusting! You really think Ferret face actually likes Harry like that? Not that it matters, because Harry isn’t even gay.” He looked over at Harry, grinning. “Mate, tell her. Even if that slimy Slytherin fancied you, you’d sooner be with a Blast-Ended Skrewt than —”

“I like blokes, Ron.”

“Than ever be with that twitchy little — wait, what?” Ron turned to Harry, mouth gaping again and eyes wide. “Mate —?”

“I have to go,” Harry said, not looking at either of them as he opened the door and left.

He vaguely heard Hermione shout after him, but he stubbornly ignored her and continued his way down the stairs and out of the portrait. He slipped on his Cloak, grabbed his map, and hurried to the Hospital Wing.

He didn’t care what Ron or Hermione thought. He didn’t. He just needed to see Draco. Draco, who was hurt and in pain, was waiting for his return. He’d deal with the other two when he got back.

Right now, he had Draco to focus on. He wanted to be there for when the blond would need him, because he’d gotten attacked. Draco’s memories were taken and he could have died falling down the stairs. Harry could have lost him. Fate was surely laughing at him right now — Harry Potter becoming overly concerned for Draco Malfoy.

If someone had asked Harry at the beginning of term how he’d feel about being in a romantic relationship with the blond, he would have probably laughed his head off at the idea before firmly turning away from the lunatic.

And now Harry was hurrying to see Draco, worried frantic that something could be happening to him right now while he was vulnerable in the Wing.

Harry slowly opened the doors to the infirmary and quickly walked in. His heart simultaneously calmed and quickened at the sight of the sleeping blond. He went over and dropped into the bed right across from Draco’s.

It looked like he was asleep. His chest rose slightly, and puffs of air escaped his lips.

Harry stared at the blond, smiling softly as he took in Draco’s features. He was so beautiful; with elegantly shaped eyebrows, his pointy and aristocratic pale nose, the smoothly defined cupid’s bow set right above the most gorgeous, fullest, and tastiest pink lips Harry had ever seen. Draco’s cheekbones were like something sculptured from clay, with such sharpness that became smoothed in sleep. Even his ears — Merlin, how Harry loved to nibble on the soft, light skin of Draco’s earlobes.

Draco Malfoy was gorgeous, Harry would admit it to anyone who asked. He didn’t think he loved beautiful shiny things, but just looking at Draco, even with his scarred body half healed and wrapped in gauze, nearly took Harry’s very breath away. How could he have lived all these years at Hogwarts without noticing what a gorgeous creature Draco was? Harry wondered. (It probably had to do with all the fists and curses being thrown between them, he mused fondly.)  

Merlin, Harry loved Draco so much. To see him here, lying almost broken because some arse had pushed him down the stairs, filled Harry with so much pained rage. Harry wanted to hunt Blaise Zabini himself down in the Slytherin Dungeons. He could do it, too, since he’d brought his map and cloak with him. He could yank Zabini out of his own bed and force him to tell Harry why he had pushed his former friend down the stairs.

But that wouldn’t be fair, and Dumbledore might have a few words to say with him about taking matters into his own hands. Not to mention McGonagall and most of the staff could find out. Draco would become upset at the thought of Harry in trouble because of him, too.

Harry inwardly sighed, glancing at Draco again and continuing to watch the rise and fall of his chest. He reached over to grasp at the blond’s hand, and was almost startled to feel how cool it was. He held onto him tighter, willing his warmth to seep into Draco. He nearly wanted to climb right into bed with him, just to make sure he stayed warm, of course. The room was so quiet, empty, and dark. If Draco wasn’t so broken and fragile right now, Harry had no doubt that their clothes would’ve been off by now. Instead of Draco being in pain from his fall, he would’ve been crying out with pleasure as Harry took the time to worship his body. Instead of cuts and painful bruises littering his body, Harry would have made sure his kisses and love bites were the only things decorating Draco’s beautiful, pale skin.   

Oh, how Harry wished they weren’t in the Hospital Wing and were in their room instead, slowly making love into the night as was their usual routine.

“Stare at me any longer than that, and you just might burn me up.”

Startled, and a bit ashamed at his thoughts, Harry looked up to see a sleepy Draco smiling at him.

“Draco, you’re awake?” he whispered, careful not to talk too loud in fear of Madame Pomfrey overhearing them and booting him out.

Draco sighed with contentment, hand tightening over Harry’s. “Wanted to wait for you.”

Harry smiled softly. “Well, I’m here now. Go to sleep, love.”

But the blond shook his head, yawning. “Want to sleep with you.”

Harry’s smile drooped, and he looked at Draco as he laid out on the bed. “I can’t, love. You’re too fragile for me to crawl in, or move you. Not to mention Madame Pomfrey might walk in and —”

“Sod it all,” Draco cursed, opening one eye blearily. “Just move the other bed over next to mine. Or enlarge this one. Either way, I don’t care. I can’t sleep without you by me.”

Harry frowned, a bit concerned at Draco’s sudden neediness. But he couldn’t fault the blond for that. Harry was feeling a bit needy for Draco, himself. He sighed, but relented to Draco’s whims.

He decided to enlarge the bed, and without thinking about it too much, he waved his hand to will the bed to double its size. He tried to cast the spell as gently as possible so it wouldn’t disrupt Draco’s healing body. But he needn’t have worried. With a small _pop_ , the bed slowly stretched to their desired size, not even unsettling the blond a little.

Draco sighed as he felt Harry finally crawl into the bed. He longed to turn closer into Harry, but that was impossible. He decided his head would have to do, and tilted it onto Harry’s shoulder as the boy finally settled in close to him. 

Both boys released mutual sighs of contentment, their bodies finally relaxing now that they were in contact and resting in each other’s presence. Harry noticed, too, a headache had been forming between his eyebrows this whole time. He hadn’t realized it’d been steadily growing stronger, until just this moment that he was with Draco. His headache almost instantly disappeared the moment the blond laid his head on him. Even Draco looked more at peace right now than he had all day.     

“Harry, I love you,” Draco said sleepily, lips barely moving.

The other boy smiled and pecked Draco softly on the lips. “I love you too, Draco. Get some sleep, love.”

Draco was asleep before he’d even finished speaking, though Harry didn’t mind. He joined Draco less than a minute later.    

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

June 24

 

“If I didn’t know any better, Potter, I’d say you were dragging your feet on _purpose_ ,” Draco hissed, his upper-class drawl creeping into his voice.

Harry frowned, hating that Draco was acting so irritable this morning, but he lengthened his stride so he could walk beside Draco again. When he looked over carefully, Harry could tell that despite Draco’s petulance he was extremely nervous. But as to why, Harry didn’t know.

Ever since Madame Pomfrey had woken them from their bed this morning (during which the Matron had plenty of words to say to Harry about disrupting school property and disturbing her patients in the middle of the night) Draco had been in a foul mood.

Since he’d been excused from classes, Harry decided to eat breakfast with Draco in the Hospital Wing. Except for some light chatter between the two, Draco had hardly spoke to him. It had made Harry a bit apprehensive, and he couldn’t help but feel like he had done something to anger the blond.

“Draco, whatever I did to make you upset, I’m sorry,” Harry had said after they’d both finished breakfast. Draco was sitting up, his wraps having been vanished by Madame Pomfrey. She had deemed his bones all healed and his health satisfactory. He had sat up in bed to eat, but was changing into his robes that the elves had delivered while they’d been asleep.

He’d stopped moving at Harry’s words, and turned to face him, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“You seem a bit upset this morning, and I just wanted to make sure that if it was something I’d done last night…”

“That’s preposterous, Harry. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Unless you’ve been keeping secrets, other than the ones that I am aware of, we’re fine, Harry.”

That had set Harry at ease a bit. “But then, why —?”

“I’m just not at all comfortable visiting with Dumbledore,” Draco admitted, reaching for Harry’s hand.

“Why not? He’s the most powerful —”

“— wizard in the wizarding world, I know,” Draco sighed. “That’s exactly why. Other than having wandless and nonverbal magical capabilities, he’s also a skilled Legilimens.” His eyes met Harry’s. “He’s going to find out, Harry. If I’m in that office with him long enough, he’ll find out everything.”

“What, about your switching sides? That’s not too bad…”

“Worse,” Draco frowned, clutching at his head with his free hand. “You don’t understand, he _can’t_ find out.”

“Find out what?” Harry questioned, confused and a bit scared at the way Draco was talking.

But Draco had fallen silent after that, and nothing Harry said brought him out of it.

Shortly before noon, the boys had received a missive from Professor Dumbledore asking them to join him in his office and that he especially liked Acid Pops.

Harry had noticed that Draco’s mood had turned entirely more sour after that. He’d snapped at Harry to hurry and get dressed, then had stormed out of the infirmary with Harry rushing after him.

It irked Harry to see Draco acting this way. It was all too familiar to being Malfoy. And Harry knew that Draco and Malfoy were the same person. He didn’t have any notions that Draco was a complete angel and that he was a separate entity from Malfoy. Harry knew that completely.

All the same, Harry’s Draco was more soft around the edges, less pointy and more beautiful, filled with light banter and laughter, wearing dazzling smiles, and his skin felt so soft and so smooth. Like last night. Draco loved him, gave him kisses, and pleaded for him to stay.

Malfoy was conniving, proud, arrogant, manipulative, and a bully to first years. He threw hurtful barbs at Harry, and became merciless when he wanted something. And he called him _Potter_ , with that annoying emphasis on his name that sent a familiar, unwelcome chill down Harry’s spine. While some of those traits made Draco look hot as hell sometimes, Harry felt a bit thrown at having the loving Draco from last night morph into this glaring version of Malfoy that continued to spit hateful barbs at him. It was just like old times, and Harry didn’t like it.     

“Why are you in such a hurry even though it seems like you’re dreading this meeting?” Harry asked him, hurrying to match Draco’s stride again.

Draco huffed, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Obviously, the sooner we get there, Potter, the sooner we can leave.”

They were approaching the Gargoyle Corridor, where Professor Dumbledore’s office was located.

Glancing over at Draco’s blank expression, Harry figured this was a good time as any. Without any warning, he used his strength to shove Draco into a nearby wall, holding his arms still and preventing too much movement by pressing his body from top to bottom against Draco’s.

It took a moment for Draco to even register what was even happening, but when he finally did, he bared his teeth at Harry and growled at him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Potter?! We’re already fucking late due to your abysmal habit of taking your fucking time to fix that nest of hair of yours —!”

Harry slammed his lips onto Draco’s, quelling the blond boy’s pointless rant and stilling his struggles. Draco bit his lip hard in retaliation, but Harry ignored the instant taste of copper and merely kissed the boy harder. Their lips fought for a while, turning and twisting as the other tried to gain the upper hand and control of the kiss. Harry had a better grip on Draco though, and he might have eventually won out if Draco hadn’t decided to bite on his injured lip one last time.

“Ow!” Harry pulled back to glare at the blond. “What the hell, Draco?”

“You slammed me against the wall! You’re getting upset with me?”

“Only because I needed to get your attention! You’ve been acting mental all morning!”

“Mental, am I?” Draco hissed. “You know, I suppose I am. How does it feel to be with a mental person, Potter?”

Harry stared at him, worried at this version of Draco he’d never seen before. He looked like a mad, crazy person. “Stop this, Draco. Just talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong with Dumbledore that makes you feel so afraid?”

“I’m not afraid, Potter,” Draco sneered.

“Then what?!” Harry cried, frustrated. “What is it? What can’t you tell me? Is it…. Does it have to do with your mission?” The blond sucked in a breath. “It does, doesn’t it. Why can’t you just tell me?”

“I’m under Oath.”

Harry stepped back, letting go of Draco.

“Yeah, you told me that. What does that mean exactly?”

“It’s similar to an Unbreakable Vow, except my Oath is solely connected to the Dark Lord. I can’t tell you the details of it, either. I can’t tell anyone, Harry,” Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t tell you, or Dumbledore, or your Order. No one. I can’t be saved.”

A lump formed in Harry’s throat. “That’s not true. I’m here. I can —”

“Oh yes, your stupid Gryffindor heroics,” Draco huffed. “Going to try and save me anyway, Potter?”

Harry fought to remain passive. “I just want to help you, Draco. If that means acting like some full-on hero, then that’s what I’ll do. You won’t talk to me, you avoid the subject of Dumbledore. What _can_ I do?”

A few minutes passed as Harry waited for an answer. It took a while, but he could tell Draco was slowly losing his ire.

“Just hold me,” Draco eventually said, his eyes taking on a strange sheen. Harry watched as his entire countenance abruptly changed. His shoulders slumped as if under a heavy weight and his hands shook as they wrapped around himself. He looked like someone who’d seen too much Death, as if he was ready to just give up the fight. “Please, Harry.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed, reining in the anger that wanted to burst forth. Draco’s emotions were giving him whiplash.

He understood that Draco was under Oath. He knew there were things that Draco might be holding inside that he was refusing to tell Harry. But he himself had secrets he couldn’t tell Draco. That would make him a hypocrite if he became angry with the blond, right?

No matter how irrational it felt, Harry was just angry at everything: at Draco, at himself, at Voldemort.

The mere notion that Voldemort had any kind of power over Draco was making Harry more furious, too. He wanted Voldemort dead. By his hand. He’d known that Voldemort had to be defeated by him anyway, but it had never felt so personal before.

He wrapped his arms around Draco tight, pulling the boy as close as he could around him. He felt Draco’s shaking against him even more and Harry had never felt so powerless in his entire life.

Harry rained kisses on Draco’s head, wishing he had some ultimate power that would break whatever Oath or magical bond that tied him and Voldemort together. He wanted to take Draco and run far, far away; somewhere where the Death Eaters or Voldemort’s influence would never reach him. They’d run away together, go somewhere safe.

Draco must’ve have known what he was thinking, and Harry marveled at what that meant about how close they’d grown, because the blond glanced up at him and gave Harry a sad smile. “Running away is for cowards. Not for you, my foolish Gryffindor.”

Harry choked out a broken laugh, and just held Draco harder. “I’ll kill him. I will. Just for you.”

And Draco kissed him. It was a bittersweet, angst-filled kiss, and it felt exactly like a last one would, and that just made Harry _ache_. “Good,” was all Draco said. He pulled a bit away from him, when all Harry wanted to do was tug Draco back into his embrace. He felt like he was slowly losing Draco. It scared the bloody hell out of him.

“Draco…” He stopped, unsure of what he even wanted to say. _Run away with me anyway. Please. Fuck the war. Be with me always._

In the end, Harry just gave Draco a bitter smile. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Draco sighed back. “Let’s go, Harry.” He took one, then two steps backwards. “We need to see Professor Dumbledore now.”

Harry was almost close to saying _sod it_ to visiting the Headmaster. But the look in Draco’s eyes subdued his anger, and he just gave a heavy sigh instead. He followed Draco back towards the corridor to Dumbledore’s office.

The gargoyle statue greeted them, and after Harry had stated the password as “Acid Pops,” the entrance stairs to the Professor’s office slid into view. The pair quickly jumped on, and Harry used the short moment as the stairs carried them up to hold onto Draco’s hand and give it a hurried squeeze. Draco threw him a grateful smile right as Harry knocked on the door.

But his face quickly grew impassive as the large door began to swing open, and he shook his hand out from Harry’s. Harry frowned at the blond’s movement, but he had no time to give a last reassuring glance at Draco as they fully walked into the room.

Dumbledore greeted both boys behind his desk. The old man’s eyes glittered craftily but his smile was genuine.

“Slightly behind of schedule, boys. Late is better than never, though.”

Harry flushed, and the two walked in to take their seats in front of his desk. The Gryffindor noticed Draco sat stiffly in his chair and he yearned to take the boy’s hand in his again.

“Care for a lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked. Both boys shook their heads no. “Well, no sense in them going to waste.” He plucked one candy from his little jar on his desk, popped it into his mouth, and with his other free hand waved the door to his office closed. “Right then, this meeting. I wanted to speak to you both about this new recent development.”

“About Draco’s fall, sir?” Harry asked, confused.

“We already told you last night —” Draco broke off at Dumbledore’s gesturing hand.

“Yes, yes of course. I was referring to another development, however. A more… intimate one, perhaps?”

Harry felt a harsh blush come over him, slowly slipping down his neck line and down to his chest. He opened him mouth to speak but Draco’s angry voice stopped him.

“What business is that of yours?” his livid voice demanded.

Harry gaped at him, mouth dropped open in shock at Draco’s sudden rudeness.

Dumbledore’s gaze only twinkled at him.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you’re completely correct. While normally school staff does not concern themselves over the personal lives of our students, certain… ah, unique situations may eventually lead to some other form of distress. When the lives of our students and staff are involved, I maintain a right to at least understand what it transpiring in my school.”

“How does mine and Harry’s personal life possibly endanger the students?” Draco questioned harshly.

Dumbledore didn’t seem to take offense at his tone. “It has quite an effect on everyone actually, Mr. Malfoy,” he said. “Especially for those whom have already been affected, such as Harry and yourself. As well as Harry’s friends. And possibly your other acquaintances.”

“Just what are you implying?” the blond demanded unkindly.

The Professor only gave him an unimpressive smile. “Your relationship is not common knowledge yet, I believe?”

Harry shook his head.

“Good, good. Then I actually have something else to talk to you about.”

Harry bit his lip worriedly, glancing back and forth at the seething blond and Dumbledore. He could understand why Draco was upset at the Professor’s prying into their private life, and he’d wish the Professor would hurry up and get to the point already, but he was also a bit thrown at Draco’s maintained hostility towards the old man. Why did Draco hate Dumbledore so much?

“First, I must ask you to respond truthfully to this next question, the both of you,” Dumbledore said, his expression serious except for the twinkling in his eyes. “What is the nature of your relationship with each other?”

Harry bristled at the question, but Draco nearly steamed for how red his face became.

“Why?” the blond hissed.

Dumbledore smiled. “The answer is important in knowing the outcome to this meeting. Please Mr. Malfoy, I only ask for clarification. Your answers will not leave beyond these doors until you wish to tell others, yourself.”

Harry glanced over at Draco shortly, waiting to see if the other boy would say anything in response. Draco only huffed.

“Um, I guess you could say… that we’re together, Professor.”

“’Together’…?”

“As in… dating…” Merlin, this was embarrassing to talk about with the old Professor. “We’re, erm, boyfriends…”

“For approximately how long?”

“Er, about a month now...?”

“How far would you say your relationship has progressed?” the old man asked, his tone cool and professional.

Harry felt his heated cheeks become even hotter. He stammered, embarrassed and almost ashamed to be talking about this in front of their Professor. “I-I…we’ve… um, kissed —”  

“We’ve been together intimately,” Draco nearly spat.

Harry’s face flushed a brighter tomato red and he had to clutch at his seat to keep himself from glaring at the blond next to him. _What the bloody hell, Draco?!_

“Ah,” Dumbledore replied, his lip twitching. He sat back, stroking his beard as he studied at the two of them.

Harry shifted unnervingly in his seat, trying to look anywhere other than at the Professor. His heart pounded at Draco’s lack of decorum in revealing the details of their relationship. What in the _hell_ was Draco thinking saying something like that?

The blond crossed his arms, maintaining his glare at the old man and stubbornly refusing to comment any further on the matter.

“May I ask how this relationship of yours developed?”

“Erm, well, I…” Harry stammered, not knowing what to say and feeling frustrated at the lack of help that he was receiving from Draco. “I… came across Malfoy in the bathroom last month….”

“Yes, Severus mentioned that there was an incident between the two of you,” Dumbledore replied. “He said you were fighting, and that he’d gone in and assigned detention to you.”

Harry almost gaped at the shortened version Snape had apparently given to the Headmaster. Had the Potions Master actually covered for Harry? For what reason?

Draco was thinking a similar thought. Explains why Harry was never expelled for using Dark Magic on him, he mused silently, a bit of resentment reeling up inside at the thought of the special treatment that Harry always received from both students and the staff. He hadn’t thought Professor Snape would ever have resorted to that, though. He mused on why Snape hadn’t taken the unique opportunity to expel Harry, after years of him wanting to do so in the past.

Both boys puzzled over their thoughts revolving around Professor Snape. Dumbledore watched them for a moment, gaze serious as he continued to stroke his beard. He hummed softly.

The sound broke Harry from his reverie. “Right. And afterwards….”

“Harry and I decided to form a truce,” Draco finally broke in, voice unwavering. “We decided to stop fighting now that we’ve gotten older. I asked him for tutoring help in Defense class, because my grades were slipping. Harry was kind enough to agree, and he’s been helping me study. We grew close enough to become friends.” His voice was so matter-of-fact, Harry wouldn’t have doubted his words if he hadn’t known the truth.

He gazed at Dumbledore, trying to read the old man for clues in him not believing Draco’s story.

But the Professor only hmmm’d again.

“Interesting,” was all he said.

Harry slumped with relief, glad that it seemed that the Professor had no qualms with their story.

“So, you’d say you are close to Mr. Potter, is that correct, Draco?” the old man asked.

Draco nodded, a bit wary at the question. “Yes.”

“You would do anything for him, in fact?” he continued, eyes glittering and formulating. “You’d want to keep him safe from danger, even?”

Harry frowned, not liking where the conversation was heading. He saw Draco nod out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes.”

“Safe from Voldemort, even?”

Harry’s frown deepened, and he turned narrowed eyes on the Professor.

“Yes,” was the blond’s emphatic answer.

“Good, good,” Dumbledore said, his gaze straying away from Draco and slightly above his head into nothingness. “Good.”

“I apologize, sir, but what exactly are you getting at?” Harry questioned, his voice coming out harder than he meant it to. “What does our relationship have to do with anything? Draco was bloody pushed down the stairs yesterday. Why are you asking about whether we’re boyfriends or not?”

Harry’s voice had risen considerably through his rant, but he didn’t care. He was growing tired of the Professor’s questions. He wanted to know how the investigation was going. Had Dumbledore already questioned Zabini?

The Professor’s eyes landed on Harry and his smile grew slightly.

“Of course, Harry, I apologize. Forgive an old man in his slow thinking.” He chuckled softly as he rose from his seat, his hand coming up to handle his beard while the other, the injured one, lay limp at his side.

Harry frowned. Dumbledore’s hand looked a lot worse than it had been just a few months ago.

“Harry,” came the Professor’s voice, getting both boys’ attention. “And Draco. I will be blunt with you. This sudden relationship developing between the two of you has come at a most inopportune time, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry gave a hesitant nod, thinking of how much better it would be if he and Draco could be together out in the open, not having to worry about taking different sides, the war, or Voldemort. 

He saw Draco nod from beside him.

Dumbledore gave them a sad smile. “Yes, a most inopportune time indeed, boys. But also a most beneficial one, as well, if you think to use time as your advantage.” He chuckled to himself. “And I believe that your development could not have come at a better time, in fact. If utilized correctly, we could use this to the benefit of everyone.”

“Sir?” Harry was deeply confused now.

Draco was getting annoyed too. “Your point, Professor?”

Dumbledore smiled indulgently. “I’ll be frank, boys. The timing is absolutely perfect. Draco, I’m aware that you’ve switched your loyalties to Harry, am I correct?” He ignored the gaping expressions of both boys at his apparent rhetorical question. “You no longer wish to follow in your father’s footsteps in becoming a Death Eater. A wise decision, indeed, and absolutely your choice to make.”

The old man was somehow using Legilimency, Draco thought angrily. He just knew it.

“So, after having switched sides and declaring loyalty to helping Harry’s destiny in defeating Voldemort, I’d like to ask you this: what do you plan to do once summer begins?”

Draco stilled at that. “I haven’t given much thought to it.” It was a blatant lie, and even Draco could tell that Dumbledore didn’t buy it.

“In that case, I offer this to you, Draco. You are afraid for your personal safety, as well as your mother’s. Along with yourself, I could offer your mother sanctuary, here in this castle, for the remainder of the war. She would be safe within these walls, away from Voldemort’s influence as well as outside the reach of your father or any other Death Eaters. She would be free to come and go as she pleased, and she would not be a prisoner.” He grinned at Draco, the mad twinkling in his eye increasing. “All of this, I offer to you. In return, I’d ask of you two things.”

Draco gaped at him, disbelieving his ears. His mother, _safe_. He tried to recover quickly, for the sake of courtesy but also because he was interested now in hearing the old man’s terms. “Yes?”

“I’d ask you to swear an Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry, as well as any secrets that he knows of. Harry is in the middle of a mission that I’ve instructed for him, and I believe his alliance with you could benefit him with your expertise and knowledge of the Dark Arts as well as from you being briefly associated with Voldemort.”

It made sense to Draco, and he wasn’t surprised that the Headmaster would ask him to make a Vow in order to protect Harry. At this point, Draco was a potential ally to the Order. But if he ever got caught or fell victim to the other side, Dumbledore would want to ensure Harry’s secrets were protected.

Draco nodded, agreeing to his terms. “And the other?”

At this, Dumbledore glanced once at Harry. The other boy was quiet, contemplative. The Professor watched him for a moment before locking his eyes back onto Draco’s. “As for my second condition, I would like for you, Draco, to stay at Malfoy Manor over the summer before you return to Hogwarts in the Fall. I’d ask that during that time, you gain intelligence on Voldemort’s movements and plans for the Order —”

“ _No!_ ”

Draco jumped at Harry’s emphatic shout.

Harry stood so fast, his chair was knocked backwards, and the boy’s emerald eyes glowed with furious anger. His fisted hands clenched at his sides. The air grew warm with wild magic, and Draco vaguely heard a thrumming sound in the air around them. Small trinkets on the Professor’s desk rattled ominously, and the walls shook with barely contained magic.

In contrast, Dumbledore gazed at Harry calmly with his hands folded in front of him. He seemed to be studying the Gryffindor carefully.

“Harry, as I’ve told you before, dark and difficult times lie ahead —”

“That’s exactly why you can’t!” Harry cried. “Why are you even thinking of sending Draco back there, knowing what he’d been getting himself into?”

“We have no other choice —”

“Yes, we do! He’ll stay with me during the summer!”

“Harry.”

“He’s not going to the Manor back to Voldemort. Draco told me that Tom actually tortured people in the dungeons. What if they discover Draco and throw him in there?”

“ _Harry_.”

“You can’t ask him to do this. I —”

“Harry, will you bloody let me answer his question?” Draco raised his voice over Harry’s.

The Gryffindor stopped and stared at him.

“I think I have the right to answer the Professor myself, don’t you think?”

Harry frowned. “You’ll tell him that it’s a bloody foolish idea, right? I mean, you can’t possibly be considering —”

“Harry,” Draco said, keeping his voice soft. “It isn’t a foolish idea for me to want to take a Vow to protect you. It would keep you safe. They wouldn’t be able to find out anything about you from me. I’d be the perfect Spy, because the Dark Lord has no reason to distrust me right now.”

“That’s not the point, Draco! You don’t get it!” Harry yelled, balling his hands into fists and turning away from him.

The blond frowned, glancing shortly at Dumbledore.

The old man quickly rounded his desk and faced the other way, granting them the illusion of privacy as he began to talk with a portrait on the wall.

Somewhat grateful for the old man’s gesture, Draco looked back at the hunched shoulders of Harry’s back. He lifted his hand and settled it against the boy’s broad shoulder blade, caressing the area softly. He waited a few moments before he spoke.

“Hey.”

Harry sniffed, but remained turned away.

“Harry, please. Talk to me.”

“Don’t do this,” came his whisper. “Please.”

Draco sighed. “Why not? It’s a good offer, Harry. My mother would be safe. I’d be safe once I come back to Hogwarts.”

“And what about during the summer? Being in Voldemort’s presence. He can use Legilimency to find out the truth.”

The blond shook his head. “Unlike you, Chosen one, I’m actually quite decent at Occlumency. He wouldn’t be able to find out anything.”

“And what if he does?” Harry rasped.

“Then he could bloody torture me all he wants. He’d never be able to get a word out because of the Vow. I’d die first.”

A quiet sob escaped the boy, shaking his entire frame. It startled Draco, and he rounded to face the boy directly. Tears were streaming from Harry’s beautiful green eyes and staining his flushed cheeks. Draco felt a hard lump in his throat. He took Harry’s face in his hands, uncaring of the Professor standing just mere feet away from them.

“Harry, look at me.”

Pained, tearful green eyes rose to meet his. As they did, Harry almost gasped to see Draco’s eyes gleaming with tears, too. 

“I love you, Harry,” the blond whispered. “I love you with everything that I have. Don’t you think that I’d want to protect the one I love as much as possible?”

“Then why are you agreeing to this?” Harry cried, his voice breaking. “If you love me, why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me behind, Draco?”

Draco eerily felt a sense of déjà vu overcome him. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“We were so happy,” Harry continued to sob, his hands raising to clench onto Draco’s robes. The blond allowed the boy to pull him closer into his embrace. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, raking his hands through the boy’s messy strands. He sighed with heartache at how the other boy’s shoulders shook as sobs rattled his frame.    

“Harry, please, don’t cry.”

“He’ll kill you, Draco. I know it. I’ve seen what he’s done, what he’s capable of.”

Draco let out a long breath, pulling Harry closer to him as he breathed in the earthy scent of broomstick polish mixed with treacle tart.

“Harry, I have to do this. I want to. This way, everyone I love is protected. I’ll be fine.” Draco tried to act convincing for Harry (and himself).

“How can you promise that?” Harry whispered.

“Because I have you to come back to, Harry,” he replied with a tearful smile. “You’ve taught me so much, love. Not just how to resist Imperius, or how to cast wandless and nonverbals. You’ve taught me what it means to love someone so much that you’d do anything to protect them, even risking death if it meant that we could ultimately be safe again together.”

Draco pulled a bit away from Harry, holding either side of Harry’s cheeks so that the Gryffindor could look at him properly.

Liquid heat filled him as his eyes connected to Harry’s. For several long minutes, Draco could practically feel Harry’s magic ooze all over the room, thrumming within the small objects contained in the bookshelves and hidden nooks of the Headmaster’s office.

But where it lashed out in the surrounding space, shaking and threatening to destroy the crystal and delicate objects, Harry’s heated magic flooded Draco with power and warmth. Draco’s core welcomed Harry’s essence like it was greeting him home with open arms. Draco could tell that Harry felt it too, because even his tears were slowing down. Harry’s rueful green gaze was quickly being replaced and darkened with a fiery burn. The fire was like an instant cue for Draco, and he could feel his body instantly respond to Harry’s heat. If they hadn’t been in the Headmaster’s office with the Professor within hearing distance, he would’ve grown hard at Harry’s nearly limitless appetite for Draco.  

Instead, the blond pulled the boy’s face closer to his, keeping his eyes locked and concentrated on Harry’s, which wasn’t too much of a feat. It was as if a compelling force was already drawing them closer together.

“I will come back to you, Harry,” Draco muttered softly.

Harry licked his lips. “Promise?” Harry said, mouth grazing Draco’s.

Draco’s eyelids grew heavy. “Yes, Harry,” he uttered. His lips brushed insistently against the other boy’s. “Always. I’ll always come back to you.”

“Always.”   

“Yes, Harry.”

“Draco,” Harry breathed, his eyes closing. They leaned closer together.

“Harry…”

“Want you, Draco,” Harry sighed, lips opening and connecting with Draco’s.    

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat.

The two boys jumped apart from each other so fast, the invisible band that had held them together snapped apart with a painful, nearly audible crack.

Draco’s cheeks were so flushed that they hurt, and even though he wasn’t looking at Harry, he figured the boy was feeling a similar way.

“Well, I’m glad that we came to an agreement, boys,” the Professor’s voice came from behind the desk. To Draco’s chagrin, the Professor sounded both amused and contemplative.

Harry was still frowning, Draco noticed, but that was either from embarrassment at almost having a full out make-out session right in front of the Professor, or anger at Draco’s deal with Dumbledore.

“Yes,” Draco replied. “I’ll take a Vow to protect Harry, along with agreeing to gain information for you over the summer.”

The Professor grinned slightly. “Good. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

It still irked being in the same room with the Professor, but if Dumbledore agreed to grant sanctuary to him and his mother during the majority of the war, Draco would endure anything to make sure his loved ones would be taken care of.

“We’ll conduct the Vow this Saturday, on the 28th of June. I shall obtain for us a Bonder to cast their wand, as is necessary for the activation of the —”

“I’ll do it,” came Harry’s voice. Both wizards turned to the Gryffindor. “I’ll be the Bonder.”

Dumbledore’s gaze was serious as he looked at him, but he didn’t disagree. “If you wish.”

The Professor rounded his desk to sit down and sink into his chair.

Draco absently noticed that the old man looked a bit less twinkly than before. His observation was proven correct as the old man’s gaze landed wearily on them.

“I shouldn’t keep you away from enjoying your lunch any longer,” the Professor said. “I will see you in my office again this Saturday, boys.” His eyes riveted over to Harry’s then. “I advise that you include Mr. Malfoy into your discussions with Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, Harry. He may be a valuable asset to where we may find another one.”

The cryptic words befuddled the blond, but Harry seemed to understand very clearly was he was saying. He nodded once in response.

The Professor sighed. “It’s been a quite a strenuous morning, boys. I will see you both Saturday. In the meantime, I sincerely hope that you both enjoy your week to the fullest.”

It was a clear dismissal.

Both boys quickly nodded their goodbyes and turned to walk out of the Professor’s office. The doors closed behind them, and they stepped onto the moving staircase as it lowered them down.

Neither boy spoke as they traveled their way out of the Headmaster’s Tower. They walked along, hands brushing together, with no thought to their destination except for perhaps the Great Hall for lunch.

But Draco suddenly didn’t want to eat in a room filled with people. He wanted to be alone, with Harry. In their room.

He glanced over at the other boy, unsettled to see how quiet the Gryffindor was as he strolled alongside Draco in the hall. Trying to catch Harry’s eye, he winced at the despairing look in the boy’s gaze. 

“Harry?” he asked. Draco was suddenly thankful that no other students were around in this part of the school.

“What?” Harry asked quietly.

“Come with me?” Draco said.

Harry frowned, confused as he looked over at Draco. “What are you talking about?”

His flat tone sent an icy chill of fear down Draco's back.

“Please,” he pleaded. He reached for Harry’s hand, and quickly turned them in another direction opposite of the Great Hall.

Harry frowned at him. “Where are you going?” he asked, having no choice but to follow Draco.

“Just trust me,” Draco said from in front of him.

Harry stared at their joined hands, not really aware of their surroundings or of any prying eyes that may have followed him. Luckily, they didn’t encounter anyone in the halls. Harry realized where they were headed as Draco led them up the stairs to the seventh floor, and he sighed as his feet followed the blond’s.

Once they crossed to the blank stretch of wall where the door would appear, Draco let go of Harry's hand and paced back and forth a few times. The door appeared soon after and Draco opened it as he pulled Harry inside.  

 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Draco walked into the room, pulling Harry with him as they crossed towards their bed. 

Harry took in a quiet breath as he stared around the room. Memories of him and Draco flashed through his mind, and every single one of them sent a painful twinge through him. He knew he was acting childish about Draco’s decision to spy for the Order. He could see Dumbledore’s point about Draco having access to important information that was needed for the war.  

But he didn’t care. The boy he loved was risking his life for Harry and for their cause in defeating Voldemort. He felt like he had every right to be upset.

He had just found Draco. Now he was about to lose him.

Harry was still standing on one side of the bed as Draco sat down heavily on the other side, his back to the Gryffindor. Harry slowly looked up at Draco, feeling so tired and so lost, but wanting to comfort the blond because of the distress that was filling the boy’s face. “Are you alright, Draco?” he asked him.

Draco shook his head, his shoulders shaking. “No.”

Harry frowned, crossing around the bed and kneeling directly in front of the blond. He could see that Draco wasn’t crying, but he did look shaken up. Acting on instinct, he stretched up to wrap his arms around Draco. He felt the Slytherin’s hands enfold around his neck to hold him closer to him, clutching Harry’s head against his sternum as he buried his nose to breathe in Harry’s scent. It comforted him, easing his breathing a bit with every inhale.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he murmured into Harry’s hair.

“For what, Draco?” he asked, feeling very worn and tired for it being just after noon. He buried his face into the robes of the blond, hugging him closer and feeling comforted at Draco’s warmth around him.

“For hurting you. For making that deal with Dumbledore,” Draco whispered. “I don’t know any other way to protect my mother and myself, Harry. I’ve tried everything. But with Dumbledore’s promise to help her, she has a chance now. And you do too, once I stay with the Dark Lord long enough to find out his plans.”

Harry tried hard not to have another breakdown in front of Draco. Merlin, the first one back in the office was bad enough. “I understand, Draco. I really do,” he muttered. “I may not like it. But I know everyone has a part to play in this war. I have one. Professor Dumbledore has his role. Even Snape. And now you.” Despite his words, his voice trailed off towards the end until it finally broke on the last word.

“We’ll be alright,” Draco said, eyes shut tight and his grip strong on Harry. “We have to be, right?”

“Yes,” Harry replied emphatically. “We will. It’s only for a little while. You’ll come back to me.”

“Then it’ll be your turn. You have to defeat him.”

“But I won’t be alone,” Harry muttered. “You’ll be with me.”

Draco pulled away to look directly into Harry’s eyes. “Yes, of course. At your side.”

“Promise?” Harry asked, voice close to breaking.

A dry sob worked its way up Draco’s throat. “Yes. Always yes. I can’t leave you Harry. Not anymore. You’ve ruined me, you stupid Gryffindor.”

Harry choked out a laugh, nearly afraid that it came out more like a loud bark. “And you’ve ruined me, you sneaky Slytherin.”

“I’ll do anything for you, Harry,” Draco whispered, blushing as he stared at Harry. “I love you.”

Harry sighed with a tiny bit of happiness. “And I love you,” he said very softly. He ran his hand through Draco’s hair and down his neck.

Draco shivered at the heated touch. “Show me, Harry. Please,” he whispered.

Harry leaned up and forward, pulling Draco’s face down towards him so that he could kiss the blond. He let out a sigh against his lips, slowly leaning more and more forward until he was at the same level as Draco.

The blond shivered, opening his mouth and surrendering himself to Harry. His tongue slid out to greet the other boy’s, and they softly caressed and moved in a dance only known to them.

Soon enough, Draco was lying on his back against the bed with Harry pressed flushed on top of him, pressing him into the sheets. Every movement Harry made with his body, Draco could feel. It made him moan and move his hands over the boy on him, stroking Harry over his clothes.   

“Harry,” Draco gasped, spreading his legs slightly, yearning to wrap them around Harry’s waist. “Please.”

“Draco,” he moaned in reply, pressing hard against Draco.

The blond moaned, tilting his head away to gasp for air before soon returning to rain kisses on Harry’s cheeks and jaw.

“Love me, Harry,” he muttered.

“Yes, love, forever,” Harry whispered into the neck of Draco’s skin. His lips brushed wetly against him with every word. “I’ll win this war, Draco. I’ll defeat him. With you beside me. And then we’ll travel away together. Living the rest of our lives with each other. In our cottage.”

“With 2.5 children,” Draco gasped, eyes shut in pleasure at Harry’s voice and touch surrounding him.

“Yes,” Harry hissed, pushing his length steadily against Draco. “With lots of pets and a wide yard for a Quidditch field.”

“And we’ll grow old together,” the blond whispered brokenly. “Promise me, Harry.”

“I promise, Draco. We’ll grow old and fat, and we’ll be together until we die, holding hands.”

Draco huffed out a shaky laugh, willing Harry’s promise to be so, through the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. “I will never be fat. I’ll always be gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “Gorgeous and aged like fine wine.”

“But we’ll die together holding hands.”

Harry grinned at him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The blond gave him a watery smile in return.

And suddenly Draco had to have him. He couldn’t wait another moment. Another second would feel like a century. He ached to feel Harry, to have Harry’s magic and scent and touch all around and overwhelming him. He needed Harry like he needed air to live. He’d die without him, he could feel it.

Harry read the expression in his face and somehow knew exactly what he was feeling. Because he felt the same way, too. A minute not inside of the blond was a minute filled with agonizing pain. He had to have Draco, right now.

With a quick wave of his hand, Harry silently spelled both of their clothing off. Draco moaned at the instant sensation of skin on skin contact that Harry’s magic created. He threw his head back in pleasure as Harry lined their lengths together and thrust against him with steady, controlled movements. After a couple of minutes, Draco spread his legs wider to accommodate Harry. They both released simultaneous moans at the movement, and the blond hurried to wrap his legs around Harry to pull him harder against him.

“L-Lube, Harry,” Draco panted, eyes clutched tight together and quick pants escaping his swollen lips.

Briefly distracted at the sight, Harry dove down and sucked against Draco’s neck. The blond keened loudly at the feeling, and Harry held him locked into the position as he made sure to leave his mark on the boy. His boy. His Draco.

“Mine,” he whispered once he was finished, gazing intently at his handiwork.

Draco groaned, nails raking down along Harry’s back. “Yes Harry. Yours.”

“Not His. Not Voldemort’s. Mine,” Harry growled.

“Only yours!” he gasped, throwing his head back as Harry made a harsh thrust against him. “Please, Harry, now!”

With one last growl, Harry pushed himself off of Draco. They both felt the instant loss of skin contact, and Harry hurried to silently and wandlessly lube his length. He cast the necessary cleaning and protection spells before he his lubed fingers pressed against Draco’s puckered hole. The blond gasped in pleasure, hardly believing it had been only a day since he’d last had sex with Harry. It felt like nearly a lifetime ago that Harry had been inside him last.

After two fingers, then three were pressed and stretching inside Draco’s cavity, Harry slowly pulled his fingers out. The blond nearly wailed at how empty he felt without Harry.

“Inside, please, Harry. Please, need you now!”

Desperately holding himself from coming right away, the Gryffindor directed his length into Draco. They both groaned in ecstasy as Harry slowly slipped inside of him. He felt like he was coming home, and Draco nearly felt the same way. He never felt complete until Harry was finally inside him.

“I love you so much, Draco,” Harry gasped out, eyes staring into Draco’s. “You’re my life.”

Draco almost screamed with pleasure as Harry began to thrust inside him, and he pushed his hands forcefully into Harry’s hair, gripping the locks as he held onto him. 

“I’ve never felt like this before with anyone. Only you, Harry,” he said. “You feel so perfect inside me.”

“Yeah?” Harry said. “You feel so good inside. Outside. Everywhere, Draco. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“And yours,” he gasped at a hard thrust. “I feel so whole with you.”

“Yes. Whole. Perfect. Safe.” Harry moaned, not moving his eyes from Draco as they spoke, hands clutching each other as if their life depended on it. “Always together. Nothing could ever change that. I won’t let it.”

“Nothing,” Draco fervently agreed, gripping Harry harder with both of his legs wrapped around his waist.

Harry leaned down and kissed Draco hurriedly, thrusting faster and deeper inside of him. He wanted to be in Draco as deep as he could, connecting them more than ever before.

Draco was panting loudly as Harry’s lips and magic washed over him, making him dizzy with want and pleasure.  

“Love you, Harry! Love you so much!”

“Yes, Draco! Merlin, fuck!” Harry cried out, pushing his arms straight and holding one of Draco’s legs higher around his torso as he thrust harder and deeper into him.

“Oh fuck! Harry!” Draco gasped. “Yes. So wonderful, Harry!”

Draco’s panting and moaning, along with his words, were bringing Harry close to the edge. There was a strange thrum in the air as the two moved and danced their bodies to the flow of invisible magic around them. Both boys closed their eyes, missing the heated flashes that sparked around their heads as they neared closer and closer to climax.

“Oh, Harry, come inside me,” Draco pleaded, wrapping his legs tighter around Harry. He closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards and moaning with every thrust inside him.

“So close,” Harry panted out. His hips moved faster, pistoning harder and deeper inside him.

“Oh oh oh!” Draco screamed, feeling his balls draw up into his body. Love and magic filled his very core as Harry slammed into him, and he cried out wordlessly as he finally came and spasmed around his lover’s length.

Harry groaned loud at the tightening around his cock, and the intense pleasure overwhelmed him as he filled Draco fully to the brim, hips thrusting for several moments as he spurted. Eventually he finally collapsed, his face pressed to Draco’s chest.

“Love you, Draco Malfoy,” Harry almost sobbed, his voice coming out broken and raspy. His face felt dry but his eyes stung and his lips felt chapped. He felt so worn, so emotionally and physically exhausted.

Draco also felt wrung out, both in the most delicious and heart wrenching of ways. “I love you, Harry Potter,” he said against Harry’s skin.

The two refused to let go of each other for the longest of minutes. Their sweat and come eventually dried messily on them, and Harry felt uncomfortable until a wave of Draco’s hand cleaned them up.

A quick thought later and the two were soon under the covers, warm and still wrapped around each other. After a few moments, Harry finally felt himself slip out of Draco, and with a quick wave another mess was prevented. But the two never let go of the other, clutching hard even as Harry fell asleep first.

Draco watched him for the longest of moments, exhausted and nearly delirious from lack of strength. He sleepily realized that it was still the middle of the day, they hadn’t eaten lunch, and Draco still didn’t feel completely back to normal after his incident from yesterday.

But all that aside, never did Draco feel more gratified and complete than at that moment. No matter what happened in the next hour, the next day, or even in the middle of the war once it started, Draco knew he would always have this moment to look back and remember.  

He’d always remember the look on Harry’s as he uttered the most precious three little words that filled Draco’s heart with joy. He’d always remember the burning green gaze that filled with heat for nearly every occasion and emotion. He’d remember Harry’s arms around him, holding and caressing him, stroking inside him, wrapping around him. He’d remember Harry’s lips and tongue, and the way they nearly pulled the very breath from Draco as he felt like he’d die a happy death as Harry took his last breath of air.

Harry’s wondrous laughter, his messy hair, his knobby knees, his tendency to fill a room with his magical and charming strength. And his annoying, but enthralling habit of rushing into danger for the ones he loved most.

He’d remember Harry Potter always. His best friend. His one true love.

He’d remember until he didn’t.

 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

June 28

 

Glad that he didn’t have to hide it any longer, for this moment anyway, Draco gripped hard onto Harry’s hand as they entered Professor Dumbledore’s office.

It had been several days since they’d last been in the Headmaster’s room, and a lot had happened since that time. But now they were finally here, and Draco was going to make an Unbreakable Vow with the Headmaster. It was finally happening.

“Hey,” came Harry’s voice beside him. Draco looked up and saw Professor Dumbledore standing near his desk.

He wasn’t paying any attention to them as he spoke to his phoenix, Fawkes.

“You’ll be alright,” Harry spoke again, his hand warm and clutching tightly to Draco’s. “I’m right here with you, Draco. Always.”

The blond stayed silent, but nodded in acknowledgement.

He knew it was inevitable. He had to do this. For his mother.

Draco just wished he had more time with Harry.

Thinking back to the events in the last few days, Draco couldn’t help himself in wishing for some kind of Time Turner that would take him years back, possibly all the way to that fateful first meeting on the Hogwarts Express in first year. If he had known… If Draco had known everything that he knew now, Draco could imagine himself taking the hand of the Boy-Who-Lived and have them leave the train before they ever reached Hogwarts.

It was irrational, he knew. But Draco couldn’t stop himself from wishing, all the same.

If he’d known.

* * *

 

Previously, June 26

 

“So, you decided to invite Granger and the Weasel to our room tonight without even thinking about disclosing this information to me?”

Harry winced at Draco’s eerily flat voice.

“Well, I thought since I have to tell you my secrets, because Dumbledore ordered me to —”

“But to our room, Harry?” he asked, frowning. “This is our space.”

“And there’s no safer place than here,” Harry answered him. “The Gryffindor tower is too full with students, and the library isn’t safe enough. In here, it’ll just be the four of us with no one else around to listen in.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Why do they have to come here, anyway?” he asked childishly. “This is mainly between us two.”

“They’re still my friends, Draco. This involves them, too.”

The blond snorted. “Some friends. They haven’t exactly talked to you since you let it slip that you’re gay. Which, by the way, the fact that you tell them first before me is absurd.”

“What? Hermione and I have talked plenty. It’s Ron who’s being bloody stubborn.”

“You both are, actually. I think Granger would agree with me.”

Harry shook his head at him. “Besides that, I didn’t think I’d actually had to tell _you_ that I am gay. Obviously, since we’ve fucked —”

“For the longest time, I thought I was just an experiment to you, Harry,” Draco said, his tone sounding offhand but inside he was reeling with nerves. “I didn’t know how long we would’ve lasted, or how long you would have used me until you’d finally got your fill. You never even said you were gay, once, Harry. You said you only fancied me.”

“Hey!” Harry cried, upset. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of this? Who ever said that you were just some experiment to me?”

Draco shrugged, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. “I’d just naturally assumed. We didn’t really talk much once we’d started having sex.”

“Because we’d already done all the talking!” Harry said, exasperated and entirely bemused, as well as a little fond of the Slytherin’s tendency towards self-preservation. It was an odd mixture of emotions.  “That’s what dating is. We just hadn’t known we’d been doing that. First we had to get to know each other.”

“Then once we admitted our fancying towards each other, all bets — or rather, clothes — were off, shall I say?”

Harry rolled his eyes, and fondly wrapped his arm around the blond’s slightly tense shoulders. He brought him closer until Draco was practically leaning into his lap. Harry shuffled the blond hair messily, ignoring the scathing look he received in return.

“Yes, you could say that. Now stop changing the subject.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you little Slytherin minx. I’ve still got a lot to explain to you before the other two arrive.”

“What more is there?” Draco asked, but inside he was shuddering at the information he’d already received from the last few hours.

Bloody Merlin, after previously finding out that his boyfriend had a prophecy about him that dictated his entire life — and concerned the ultimate fate of the wizarding world — Draco hadn’t known that his association with Harry could provide him with any more bizarre information. He’d been wrong, obviously.

After dinner, the boys had met in their room to talk about what knowledge Dumbledore had wanted Harry to divulge to Draco.

An hour had already passed as Harry had explained what he’d been working on with the Professor all year, retrieving memories of Voldemort and learning of his history as Tom Riddle. Draco had been surprised to hear that the Dark Lord was actually a half-blood, but he wisely didn’t mention that to Harry. He’d also been surprised to hear the circumstances surrounding the Dark Lord’s loveless birth.

Then Harry had mentioned that in order to defeat Voldemort, Harry had to use his “ _power the Dark Lord knows not”,_ which was his ability to love.

“Love?” Draco had asked. “How do you use love against the Dark Lord? What does that even mean?”

“Dumbledore explained it as my ability to remain pure of heart, or something like that. But that’s not all.”

Draco had tried distracting Harry and changing the subject, unwilling to hear more.

But Harry was determined to lay everything about himself out in front of Draco.

And so, Harry revealed to Draco how Voldemort had split his soul and concealed them into objects, essentially making them into Dark Objects known as Horcruxes.

 Draco wanted to laugh (He’d actually wanted to scream, cry, flee in terror… but eventually laughter had won out).

It was a maniacal, desperate sort of laugh. More like a bark, really. Harry completely understood, sitting there as he watched Draco nearly lose his mind at the absurd reality of the situation.

After a couple of minutes, Draco’s laughter finally subsided into broken gasps of air as he then began to slightly panic.

“Draco, breathe,” Harry whispered.

“You can’t kill him,” Draco gasped, chest burning from lack of air. “There’s no way. It’s impossible.”

“It is not impossible, Draco. I’ve been training with Professor Dumbledore, _you_ even, and I’ve got Hermione and Ron with me. There’s also Mad-Eye Moody, Remus, the Order.”

“But Harry,” the blond broke in. “You said seven objects. _Seven_. How in Merlin are we —?”

“Less than that, actually,” Harry tried to reassure him. “He was only able to make six, and there’s already been a few that we’ve managed to destroy. I stabbed Tom’s diary in second year and Dumbledore told me he destroyed Marvolo Gaunt’s ring. That’s why his hand looks like that. He had to… sacrifice it somehow.”

“So, that leaves four more to destroy? How do we know what they are?” Draco asked.

“Professor Dumbledore told me that Voldemort has this way of favoring specific objects worthy of the honor. He wanted to choose objects that represented the four Houses of Hogwarts. So, we know that one of them is Slytherin’s locket and the other is Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, which leaves the other to be something important of Ravenclaw’s.”

“And the last one?”

“He thinks it’s Voldemort’s snake.”

“Nagini?” Draco recoiled. “You can make a living being into a Horcrux?”

“Apparently,” Harry said gravely. He grabbed Draco’s hand firmly in his. “In total, that’s six objects, which means he’s split his soul six times.”

Draco shuddered. “What kind of human does that? With that many times, what on earth is left in his body right now?”

Harry agreed with him. “I don’t think there’s much humanity left in him, honestly.”

“He certainly doesn’t look human, anymore,” Draco sniffed. “He doesn’t even have a nose.”

Harry snorted, hiding a grin in Draco’s hair as he held him. “Funnily enough, Tom was actually a bit attractive when he looked more human.”

Draco turned on Harry instantly, eyes wide as he stared at his boyfriend. “Seriously? How in Merlin’s name do you even know that?”

“Well, I did meet his younger self once… Long story. Plus, I saw Voldemort’s memories. He wasn’t too bad.”

The blond raised an eyebrow. “Really, Potter? You actually have a thing for the Dark Lord?”

“Shut up,” Harry groaned. “You know I don’t. That’s disgusting, actually. Don’t even say that again.”

“You said it!”

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes, and grabbed for Draco again. “You’re changing the subject. _Again._ ”

“Can’t help it. When my own boyfriend is complimenting his enemy’s handsome appearance, never mind that he’s a Dark Lord...”  

“Merlin, if I knew how jealous you’d be,” Harry sighed.

“I have every right!”

He hid a laugh, instead choosing to pull Draco on top of him again to quickly kiss the blond’s frown away. “Yes, you do. But seriously, Draco? It was a passing comment. At best. Besides, you honestly think I’d take a pass at him now?”

Draco hummed, trying to ignore the trail of kisses Harry was peppering into the skin of his neck. “You’re right. How foolish of me. I mean, he doesn’t even have hair. Or eyebrows.”

“Hmm, not sexy that,” Harry agreed, turning his attention to sucking a light mark right underneath Draco’s chin.

“He doesn’t even have basic hygiene,” Draco continued, tilting his head further back to give extra space for the Gryffindor. “I mean, even you wash your hair at times.”

Harry paused, not sure how he felt about that. “Er…”

“Besides, why am I even worrying? You’re with me. I’m much better looking.”

“Hmm mmm,” Harry absently murmured. Turning back to his task, he began to suck at Draco’s collarbone. “You do have a rather nice, tight arse.”

Draco blushed, feeling pleased. “Well.”

Harry pulled back and grinned at him. “And a very lovely cock.”

“All the better to fill you with,” Draco smirked, pumping his eyebrows sensually at him.

Harry groaned, quickly turning Draco so that the blond was away from his hardening length. Merlin, his friends were due to arrive any minute now. What was Harry thinking even letting the Draco tease him?

“You little minx,” he sighed, pressing a hand on his length to stubbornly hold it down. Draco just smirked at him. “You feel better now? Not panicking anymore?”

Gray eyes quickly lost its spark, and narrowed. “I had every reason to panic, Harry. I just found out we have to search for six bloody —”

“Four.”

“— Horcruxes before we can even attempt to destroy the Dark Lord. Then there’s the matter of killing the evil fucker himself. Oh, and there’s also a war that he wants to unleash onto the Wizarding World as soon as he readies his army.”

“Draco.”

“Oh, but what reason is there to panic?” Draco huffed sarcastically.

“Draco, look at me.”

Harry didn’t speak until Draco met his eyes, which took a few moments.

“Listen, you have me. And I have you. We have Professor Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron, and the Order.  We also have the Aurors, the Hogwarts Staff, and hundreds of others who would be willing to stand and fight against a Dark Lord.” He cupped Draco’s chin, moving him until Draco was forced to stare straight into Harry and nowhere else. “Stop doubting us. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

Draco sighed and opened his mouth to argue, mostly for appearance sake.

There was a knock on the door.

Harry dropped his hand from Draco, standing quickly with his wand at the ready.

“They’re here,” he gasped. Harry quickly surveyed the room, glad he’d told Draco to restore the room previously back into a basic training room earlier.

Draco rolled his eyes, but stood from the couch so he was ready to greet the two Gryffindors.

“No reason to panic, right,” Draco huffed.

Harry ignored him and crossed the room to open the door.

Bushy brown hair and a pair of blue eyes with freckles greeted Harry, and the Gryffindor stood awkwardly to the side to let the two in.

“Thank you for joining us, Granger and Weasley,” Draco drawled from his position by the couch.

Hermione grinned back slightly in response, while Ron just rolled his eyes. “Malfoy.”

They all sat down on the couch just as they’d previously done a month ago, and Draco poured them all tea. He was thankful he’d thought ahead of time about ordering a full tray filled with biscuits and other delightful cakes. He saw Weasley eyeing them eagerly before he shortly took a few in his hand and scarfed them down. Draco hurriedly looked away to avoid making a snide comment.

“So,” Granger started. “Harry told us you have something to tell us.” She put her teacup on the table, ignoring the slight rattle. “I figured we could meet here because it sounded pretty important. Does it have to do with your fall?”

Draco hesitated, glancing at Harry to see the boy also scrunching together his eyebrows.

“Erm, I guess it kind of does…?”

“I tried researching that spell, by the way,” the girl continued. “The truth one you told me that Zabini may have cast on Malfoy.”

“You told her that?” Draco turned to Harry.

The boy shrugged at them. “Dumbledore barely believed me. He’s talked to Zabini, and apparently his story was clean. His alibi checked out.”

“Where was he instead?”

“With Crabbe and Goyle working on some project,” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

Draco frowned. He began to think in consternation, knowing there was something about Crabbe and Goyle that was niggling at him, but he was interrupted by Granger’s voice.

“Well, whoever cursed you, Malfoy, I couldn’t narrow the spell down to just one. From what I researched, there are so many variations of them. Essentially, there are plenty of truth spells that are just barely this side of being dark. They’ll either have memory loss capabilities or even mind reading similar to Occlumency, but all of them have something in common. The one that Zabini, or whoever it was, had put on you should have dissipated within a few minutes. So, whatever question he would’ve asked you, he would have had known that time was not on his side. He could have asked you any kind of question he’d wanted, and you would have had to tell him, but I’m pretty sure he picked something important. Something that would be of some value to him in such a short time.”

Draco’s nerves were muddled, and his heart raced. The only secret that really mattered to him was his relationship with Harry. If Zabini, or whoever had cursed him, had asked him anything about that, Draco and Harry were already in danger.

“What could they possibly want to know, though?” Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. “Who knows if it was a student or a teacher. But if they are working for Voldemort somehow, like how you thought Malfoy was, and they also thought that Malfoy might be connected to him as well, then…”

“Then, they would have asked him questions that might’ve led to him giving out free information about him defecting to our side,” Harry said.

“Which means I’m already dead,” Draco said, his tone completely blank. “If that person asked anything about my miss — association with the Dark Lord, I would have told them everything.”

“Not necessarily,” Hermione said. “They could’ve also asked you about a dark secret that you have, or about a crush, or the latest gossip you might’ve known. This is a school. There are hundreds of students that love to spread rumors, and who would do anything to obtain information.”

“Using barely legal spells?” Harry asked, doubtful.

Hermione just shrugged.

“Well, that aside,” Draco said, feeling shaken and just wanting them to move on from this conversation, “We don’t have much else to go on so there’s no point in pursuing this topic any further. Even if it was Zabini, he hasn’t treated me any different or looked at me strangely. There haven’t been any crazy rumors. I haven’t gotten any strange letters from anyone. Any letters, actually, not even from my mother,” he added, frowning. “Nothing has changed, so my fall down the stairs could’ve just been a horrible prank.”

Draco turned to Harry, frowning. “We have something much more important to tell you, anyway. Something that concerns… me defecting.”

Granger’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, Harry mentioned that earlier. I thought Harry was just helping you with learning new spells. Are you actually on our side now?”

“Harry’s side,” Draco corrected. “But yes, essentially.

“Does Dumbledore know this?” Ron finally spoke up.

Harry nodded. “That’s what we actually wanted to talk to you about.” He took a deep breath, and he yearned to take Draco’s hand in his for comfort. “After Draco’s accident, Dumbledore had both of us go to his office to speak to us.”

Granger’s eyes widened, and she shifted forward on the sofa with interest. “What about?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “Well, he actually wanted to know where Draco’s true allegiances were. Which was, er… to say, he’s on our side. The Light side. Against Voldemort.”

This time, both duo’s eyebrows flew up with surprise.

“I’m loyal to Harry,” Draco said to clarify, but he doubted that made much difference to the Gryffindors.

“Really?” Hermione asked. “You renounced your father and him being a Death Eater?”

Draco frowned deeply, but nodded.

“Yes. It has to do with what I’d told you earlier, me seeing the truth about what they stood for and wanting something different for myself. Plus, some other reasons.”

“And those are…?” Ron questioned.

“Not important,” Harry quickly said. “There’s more. After Professor Dumbledore was sure that Draco was telling the truth, he… erm… wanted Draco to… to...” His voice broke off, his tone suddenly becoming lower, a bit angry and harsher.

Draco rolled his eyes, and continued for him. “Dumbledore wants me to make an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to protect Harry.”

Hermione gasped, and even Ron looked stunned.

“Why?” the brunette asked.

“He wants Draco to spy for our side,” Harry grunted, not looking happy about it at all.

“’Spy’?” Ron asked. “On who? The Death Eaters?”

Draco nodded. “He wants me to go back this summer to the Manor and use my connections with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord to gain information for your Order.”

“But that’s suicide!” Hermione said. “Why would Professor Dumbledore risk a student’s life like that?”

“Because according to Malfoy, there’s a war coming,” Ron spoke, his gaze stern but concentrated on Draco. “Professor Dumbledore isn’t stupid. He knows the risks. But he’s willing to go through with them because he knows that’s what we need right now. It’s all about strategy.”

“But he already has a spy, doesn’t he? Professor Snape?” Hermione asked.

“Two is better than one,” Ron told her, eyes riveted on Draco’s with clear understanding. “In a chess match, you always have multiple strategies lined up just in case Plan A goes wrong. If Snape were to get caught, for example, we would still have Malfoy.”

“But that’s still barbaric!” Hermione argued. “Malfoy is underage. How could he ask a student to risk his life like that —”

“Age doesn’t matter in war,” Draco said. “Although as of a few weeks ago, I am legal now.”

“You’re still a student.”

“Doesn’t matter. Weasley is right. If Snape is caught or killed, I’m the perfect back up. My father was in his innermost circle and the Dark Lord has visited my own home plenty of times. I would be in the perfect place to find out information, and no one could suspect a thing. Everyone knows about my rivalry with Harry, but no one knows about our friendship except for you, Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore. Not even Snape knows.”

“But why?” Ron interrupted. His voice was suspicious. “Why are you willing to risk your life like that? You barely became friends with Harry a few months ago, and now you’re willing to just throw away your life away for him? You’re even willing to make an Unbreakable Vow?”

“I told you, I changed my way of thinking —”

“Fuck off,” Ron snarled at him, and turned his glare on Harry. “It’s obvious there’s more than that. Harry told us something the other day that he would never have even thought about earlier this year.” He looked at Draco. “He’s never acted like this before: disappearing all night, spending his weekends away from us, keeping _secrets_. Harry likes girls. He dated Cho Chang last year. We’re his best friends. And yet, we know nothing of what he’s been up to this last month.”

“Ron —”

“But you do,” Ron continued, his eyes not straying from Draco’s. “You’ve been with him this whole time. ‘ _Training_.’ All of a sudden, Harry wants us to trust you. He wants us to get along and be the best of friends He gets worried sick when you fall down some stairs. Then suddenly, Harry’s a bloody _shirt lifter_.”

“Ronald, stop —”

“I’m not a bloody idiot, Hermione!” cried Ron. “I can bloody well tell for myself when someone is lying to my face. And Harry has done nothing but that lately. Secret battle trainings with Dumbledore? Long walks around the castle in the middle of the night? When really, he’s been with Malfoy this whole time.”

“Weasley, would you shut your bloody mouth about things you know nothing about,” Draco spat, heart racing with anger and dread. He tried to keep his eyes from straining over to Harry’s.  

“I know we tested you for potions, Harry,” Ron spoke, dismissing Draco. “Otherwise, I would’ve thought you’d gone bonkers under some love potion for him. But now I see it for myself. This meeting proves that.”

“Ron, please,” Harry pleaded, eyes wide with dismay. “Let me explain.”

“Too late, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I figured it out. I thought Malfoy was just using you, but really he was falling bloody in love with you.”

Hermione gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth. Harry was frowning, anger and regret burning in his gaze. 

Draco was just glaring back at the Weasel, daring the redhead git to do something stupid that risked his friendship with Harry.

“And you bloody went and fell for the git, too. Now Dumbledore is making Malfoy prove his loyalty by making him swear to a Vow and sending him right into the heart of Dark territory.” Ron shook his head in disappointment. “I thought I was your friend, mate.”

“Ron, you are —”

“Friends don’t keep secrets like this, Harry. Friends don’t lie, or sneak around to avoid each other.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, I know you didn’t,” Ron said. “I know you wouldn’t have, under normal circumstances. If it had been with a girl, you wouldn’t have kept her a secret like that, mate.”

“Ron…”

“If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have had a problem. If you had just told me you were gay at any other time, I wouldn’t have minded it either. But it’s Malfoy, the bloke who called us names, bullied us every year, followed us around and hexed us. Nearly got Buckbeak killed. Nearly helped Umbridge sack Dumbledore last year. And then this year,” Ron said, chest heaving and face growing red in his cheeks.

“This year, Malfoy changed. He apologized to us for all of his wrongdoings. He’s bloody willing to sacrifice his life for you by letting Dumbledore send him on a suicide mission. And the way he looks at you, mate.” Ron shook his head in incredulous bemusement. “He looks at you like you’re a reincarnation of bloody Merlin himself.”  

Draco and the others had been frozen in shock while Ron had spoken. But at that, Harry and Hermione relaxed a little. Draco still felt unnerved, though. He gave a mild glare at Weasley.

“What is your point, Weasel?” he spat at him.

Ron rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to apologize here, Ferret.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “You call that an apology?” The redhead glared.

“I was just going to get to that, you bloody prat.” Ron turned to face directly to Harry then, his entire stance dripping with genuine remorse. “My point, mate, is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you felt like you had to hide all of this from us. From me. I’m madder at myself than with you, I think. Although I still am a bit mad at your choice in partners…”

“Ronald.”

“Right,” he sighed. “I honestly don’t know what you see in the git, Harry, but I was listening to Malfoy during his grand apologetic speech to us last time. And I was listening to everything else you yelled at me for in the last couple of weeks. The both of you,” Ron told Hermione and Harry. “So I guess… what I’m trying to say is…”

“Mate, it’s alright,” Harry said.

Ron frowned at him. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The boys gave each other a long look.

“Uh, fine then. That’s all I wanted to say then, really,” Ron ended lamely.

Harry gave him a small smile.

Draco didn’t bother hiding the rolling of his eyes, and he nearly missed Granger doing the same.  

“This is all great, then,” Draco muttered. “We’re all the best of mates now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Malfoy.”

It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes now, but the smile remained on his face. “Thanks, Ron. Really.”

Ron just shrugged.

“Boys,” Hermione nearly groaned, slumping back into the opposite sofa.

Draco leaned a bit back into the cushions himself and, after a moment of hesitation, reached over to put his hand on Harry’s thigh.

The radiant grin that spread across Harry’s face nearly blinded Draco with its brilliance, and it was almost glowing enough to drown out the sight of Ron’s face turning ashen.

“Mate, I’m still not ready to see that sort of thing,” came a mutter from his direction.

Draco frowned, but Harry chuckled in reply.

“Behave,” he whispered to Draco.

The blond smirked, promising no such thing as he kept his hand on Harry’s lap. The other boy didn’t remove it either.

“Well, now that that’s all out of the way, we can finally finish what we’d planned to tell you from the very beginning of this meeting.”

The Gryffindors all laughed and began to talk, but Draco only sighed and moved closer into Harry’s embrace, neither seeing nor caring for the other two’s reactions at his movement.

The four of them stayed up well into the night talking about Dumbledore’s plans and what Voldemort may be planning during his stay at the Manor.

Draco mostly enjoyed Harry’s attention on him as the trio talked, savoring the boy’s light and hidden caresses against the back of his neck and in his hair, letting the soft movements eventually lull him to sleep.

Harry noticed when Draco’s weight had increased slightly, as well as when his breath deepened. He continued his caresses on Draco, keeping them steady on his skin as the blond slept.

Hermione also noticed that Draco had fallen asleep.

“You’re really going to let him go through with this?” she whispered to Harry.

The other boy frowned, gazing down at Draco’s face and the way his darkened eyelashes fell against his fine cheekbones.

“I have no choice, Hermione.”

“He’s walking into a trap,” Ron said, nose wrinkling as he avoided looking at the blond. “You know that, mate.”

“I know.”

“Then can’t you ask Dumbledore…?”

“Draco already made his choice,” Harry said abruptly.

Hermione and Ron shared a glance.

“You’re not going to stop him?”

Harry paused. “I’m going to do my very best to make sure he never enters the Manor. I can’t lose him. Not him.”

“Mate —”

“I love him.”

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry, and to the Chosen One’s surprise, both of them did not look startled in the least.

Harry stared, inwardly pleased to still see the warmth in his friends’ gazes.

“We pretty much knew that, mate. That’s why I practically laid out my soul earlier.”

Hermione laughed, Harry gave a soft snort. He didn’t want to wake Draco.

After a few minutes of silence, in which they all settled down and were lost in their own thoughts, Harry spoke.

“I’m not letting Voldemort get to him, Hermione. I’ve already lost my parents, and Sirius. I can’t let them take away Draco, too.”

Tears filled the brunette’s eyes, and even Ron was gazing at Harry solemnly.

“We’re with you all the way, Harry,” Hermione muttered softly.

Harry gave her a grateful look.

Then he looked down at Draco, who was still asleep and was breathing deeply.

“I’ll always be with you,” he whispered to the blond, his words soft but intense with feeling. “I’ll never leave you, Draco. I’m with you, always.” He dropped a light kiss on the blond hair.

In his sleep, Draco smiled. 

* * *

 

Present day, June 28

 

“Are you ready?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

He stood in front of Draco, right hand held out as if to shake his. Harry stood adjacent to them, wand at the ready, wearing a strange expression that fell somewhere between being resigned but also determined.

Acceptance, Draco mused to himself. Harry had accepted Draco’s fate, just like Draco had all those weeks ago when he’d first known he was in love with Harry.

Draco nodded, stepping up to grasp the Professor’s arm. His gaze was fixed upon the old man’s twinkling blue eyes. Although at the moment, Draco noticed, the man’s blue eyes did appear more solemn than usual.

“Harry,” the Professor said.

Harry stepped forward, placing his wand tip on where their arms were linked.

Then the Professor spoke.

“Let’s begin:

“Will you, Draco, swear to never to reveal Harry Potter’s secrets and information that may benefit Voldemort or his followers in any way?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“I will,” said Draco.

From Harry’s wand, a streak of bright flame wound its way around their hands, magically binding them.

“Will you, Draco, keep the whereabouts of Harry and other Order members secret and safe from Voldemort, along with any of his supporting Death Eaters?

“I will.”

A second tongue of flame streaked from Harry’s wand, winding its way with the first and making an interlinking chain.

“Will you, Draco, vow to the best of your ability to protect Harry from Voldemort, and if in the event that you must sacrifice yourself to save him, will do so?”

Ignoring Harry’s sharp intake of breath, Draco said a final time, “I will.”

A third bright streak of fire shot from the wand, twisting itself and binding thickly around their clasped arms, joined the other two interweaving strands and locking together to form a glowing chain of magic.

The glow lasted a long moment, before finally vanishing into skin of their arms.

They separated, Dumbledore wearing a sad smile. Draco stood, impassive, as Harry quickly reached over to grasp at Draco’s hands in a tight grip.

The brunet glared at Dumbledore, who didn’t pay any attention as he walked wearily over to a corner of the room.

“Thank you, boys. It is done.”

It wasn’t a very clear dismissal, but Harry didn’t care. He didn’t bother saying goodbye to the man. He clutched tighter on Draco’s hand, and pulled them from the room.

The heavy door slammed behind them.

Dumbledore sighed.

It was heavy, sad sigh, filled with pain for two boys who were destined for a sad, unfortunate fate.

He raised his wand to his temple, thought of the Unbreakable Vow with Draco Malfoy, and pulled.

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

They lay intertwined on the bed, their clothing littering the floor in a trail starting from the doorway of their shared space. The room was warm with the excess of magical heat, and quiet except for the steady breaths of the two boys who lay naked under the sheets.

Laying on his side, Harry swept back the blond fringe, wanting nothing more than to drown in the deep depths of Draco’s gray stare as they gazed at one another. Harry held the blond Slytherin close to him, their torsos and half-hard lengths pressing into each other. The heat of the room wasn’t necessarily sexual in nature. Not anymore. Now that their hearts were calmed down and their bodies sated, Harry just wanted to have this quiet moment with Draco. Before the wizarding world got to them, before everything took Draco away from him. Harry just wanted to enjoy this moment of holding Draco against his body. His eyes perused the boy’s figure, memorizing every line and curve, basking in the blonde’s beauty that was revealed only to him.

In return, Draco was gazing sadly back at Harry. He knew what the Gryffindor was doing. He could tell that Harry wanted to keep Draco all to himself in this magical room that barely anyone knew about. Draco could hide in here for an eternity and everyone would have trouble looking for him.

The blond shook his head fondly at the other boy, and cupped Harry’s cheek in his hand, feeling along the stubble until he reached the boy’s swollen, rosy lips. Draco thought back to the heated kisses and bites from earlier, and he felt his length give an unimpressive twitch. Even it was too tired after all the lovemaking they’d already done in the past few hours.

The first thing they boys had done when they had entered the room had been to tear each other’s clothes off. They’d collapsed on the bed, ravaging mouths tearing and biting with fury, need, and desperation.

Draco was filled with a sad resignation at finishing Dumbledore’s request to swear an Unbreakable Vow. Now that it was done, he felt stoic at the thought of his impending fate.

Harry was the opposite. He was livid, furious, pissed as bloody hell at the Professor. He felt betrayed, torn, and heartbroken at the same time. He hadn’t even lost Draco, and yet he’d known they’d taken another step closer in Draco being torn from him. There was nothing he could do, though. This was bigger than either of them. It was a war. Voldemort’s and Dumbledore’s. And the boys were just pawns in this game of chess.

But knowing it, and living it, were two separate things. Harry was feeling all kinds of grief and rage and desperation. Desperation to have Draco. Right now. As many times as he could. He wanted to enjoy and love Draco all that he could while he had the time.  

So, Harry had quickly prepared Draco without much thought to foreplay and taken the blond from behind. It was an angry claiming. It almost hurt Harry as he pushed into Draco’s a bit too tight arse. Even Draco felt mostly pain rather than pleasure. But it was still beautiful in its own way. They needed this. Draco knew it, and so he let Harry fuck his anger and sorrow right into him. It made Draco glad that he could do that for Harry, and Draco had quickly come from Harry’s desperate need to suck, kiss, touch, and fuck every part of him.

Harry hadn’t stopped there, either. After Draco had released onto the sheets, Harry had quickly turned him around so that he lay on his back on a drier section of the bed. Then he’d licked and tasted Draco’s oversensitive length, ignoring the blond’s cries of protest, and he lowered until he was licking and tasting his wet, stretched hole.

Draco’s length eventually hardened again from the stimulation, and Harry hurried to take advantage of it. He’s risen his chin up a bit, taking the blond’s length into his mouth and sucking and slurping to his heart’s content. Draco cried out, arching his back and gripping the sheets with a heated frenzy. Harry honestly didn’t pay much attention to Draco’s yells and pleasure filled screams. His focus was on having Draco in every and any possible way.

Shortly after Draco became hard to his full size, Harry had risen on his knees, waved his hand casually to cast all of the necessary charms, and lowered himself hurriedly onto Draco’s length.

The stimulation was nearly overwhelming for Draco, already haven come once and nearly close to doing so again inside of the Gryffindor’s snug hole. But he held out, grabbing Harry’s hips and thrusting upwards into his arse.

The Gryffindor let out a pained and blissful sob, head tilted back as he rode Draco into oblivion. Draco had looked at him, then, feeling a stab in his heart as he glimpsed the trail of tears staining the boy’s cheeks. His own eyes prickled, and Draco was startled to realize he’d been crying for a while too while they’d been fucking.   

It went on for hours like that. The boys made love far into the night, holding the other close as they took turns claiming the other, crying wretchedly all the while.

It was almost not enough, when they finally collapsed in the middle of the night. They held onto each other then, tears flowing silently down their faces, with neither boy acknowledging them as they took in the sight of the other’s wrecked and worn body.

They didn’t sleep, they didn’t dream. They only held each other. After a short while, Draco silently cast cleaning spells on them. They were more comfortable and dry after that, and they’d slipped under the sheets for warmth.

They hadn’t said anything since they’d entered the room either. Their pleasure-filled sounds had been mostly moans and gasps, with hardly any legible words uttered between them.

Now as they lay there, staring into each other’s eyes, Harry opened his mouth to finally speak. His voice hoarse and rough from misuse, and his words were short and simple but direct.

“Bond with me, Draco,” he whispered.

Tired and sore, it took a moment for Harry’s words to register to Draco. When they finally did after a minute, the blond’s eyebrows slowly raised in answer.

“How?” he asked.

Draco hadn’t even thought about an idea such as this, hadn’t even contemplated it or wanted it.

Not until just this very moment. Not until Harry suddenly brought it up. Now, there was nothing Draco wanted more.

Harry stared at him. “I read a few books.”

Draco smirked a bit playfully. “Oh really?”

A corner of Harry’s lip lifted upwards, but his voice was serious when he spoke. “We can bond with each other right now. There doesn’t have to be any witnesses, only a few conditions need to be met. We can do it right now.”

Draco was surprised at himself for not feeling much more alarm than he was, and he felt it could only be blamed on the earlier events of sex, tears, and feelings of desperation. He nodded at Harry, willing to agree with whatever the boy wanted so long as it made him happy.

“What will it do?”

“The bond is a minor one, compared to a lot others. It’s mostly used in friendships, or in any occurrence where two people just want to be connected to each other.”

“It wouldn’t be a marriage bond?” Draco asked.

“No, nothing like that. That’s not what I’d been considering when I was doing my research. But,” Harry paused, and moved to hold Draco’s hand in his. He rubbed the blank area of the boy’s left ring finger, where he suddenly felt desperate to see a ring placed there.

Harry mentally shook the idea from his mind. “I wouldn’t be opposed to marriage with you, but I think that’d be a bit dangerous considering present circumstances.”

Draco gave him a soft smile in understanding, but even he could tell it was a bit sad and filled with regret.

Harry stared at the blond boy, feeling elated at the mixture of feelings he could read in Draco’s expression. The blond was actually considering marriage? With him?

Harry felt his heart become full. “As soon as this war is over, I would love to marry you, Draco Malfoy. But for now, I thought we’d try a bond that would connect us together in another way and wouldn’t put you in danger any more than you are in now.”

Draco blushed. Harry was right, Draco was being foolish.

He bit his lip and nodded his consent to the other boy. “So, we’ll be able to feel each other?” he asked.

“That, along with feeling when the other is in danger. It’s nothing too fancy or complex. But we will be tied together. Even if we’re separated for days at a time, I will still feel you, Draco. And you’ll feel me.”  

“What do we need to do?” asked Draco, suddenly anxious to feel the connection Harry was mentioning. He wanted to feel Harry everywhere, even inside him when the boy wasn’t physically around. He wasn’t afraid of Harry’s plan, even though he had a million reasons why he should be. He didn’t care. Blame the heated moment, or the impending disaster his spying on the Dark Lord could unleash, he only wanted this now. He wanted to be connected to Harry for the rest of his life, feeling him and being tied with him in a way no one else could.

Suddenly, it was all Draco wanted and it couldn’t happen fast enough.

Harry easily read the blond’s thoughts by the range of expressions that crossed his pale face, and again he marveled at how he’d managed to thaw the Slytherin Ice Prince and turned him into the passionate lover that Harry had soon come to love and cherish.

“We need a dagger,” said Harry, sitting up now as he quickly conjured one in his mind. A moment later, an emerald incrusted hilt and dagger materialized in his hand. The hilt portrayed a lion roaring carved into it, with the emeralds dusting around in an elegant display.

Draco gasped at Harry’s skill in wandless and nonverbal magic, both proud and impressed at the growth in Harry’s power. He examined the blade in Harry’s hand, thinking of how well it fitted the occasion. It was a nice mixture of the both of them in one single object.

“We need to cut each other with this,” Harry explained. “Before the blood dries, we hold the wounds to each other as we promise the oath of binding.”

“What’s the spell?” Draco asked.

“There is none. This bond is one of intent. That’s mainly why I chose it. Whatever we’re feeling, what we want from each other, the spell will recognize that and have it become so.”

Draco wanted to shake his head, his heart was beating so fast and blood pumped in his ears.

It was so much all so soon. Harry wanted them to cut themselves and bond with each other. They’d be in each other’s thoughts forever. Draco felt himself suddenly rethinking the entire idea, nervous and anxious as he thought of the future.

He kneeled there in front of the Gryffindor, mulling over the idea of Harry forgetting about him, moving on to another girl, defeating the Dark Lord and then forgetting all about Hogwarts and Draco and this bond as he went to travel the world on his own, without Draco. It could happen, and it frightened Draco. It was one of his worst fears.

Then Draco mulled over the idea of a future without Harry, one where they didn’t do the bond and Draco was left forever wondering and regretting and asking the question, _What if I had?_

Draco met Harry’s eyes, and stared back at him with an intensity to match Harry’s own. He decided.

“Let’s do it.”

Harry grinned at him, eyes mad with happiness. He sat up, pulling Draco up to sit directly across from him. They were both still naked, but it didn’t concern them.

Without saying any further words, Harry placed the dagger point on the inside of his left palm. Stealing one last glance at Draco to reassure himself, who quickly nodded back in return, Harry cut himself with one short swipe.

He quickly handed the blade to Draco, who took it as he stared at Harry’s bleeding palm. He hurried to point the dagger into his own skin, and with one last second of hesitation, swiped down to open a cut into his right hand.

They both turned to each other, and fitted their wounded hands to each other. Magic instantly sprung from the connected point, filling the room and their bodies with lightening hot fire. It burned into Draco, filling him up and making him grit his teeth at the feeling of intense pain mixed with gratification.

“I, Harry Potter, do bind myself to thee, Draco Malfoy,” chanted Harry, keeping their hands connected amongst the wave of magic that tore through them and lifted their hair. The magic swirled in sparks and white flashes over their heads, nearly stealing their breath at the sight.

“I, Draco Malfoy, do bind myself to thee, Harry Potter,” Draco quickly chanted.

He’d barely finished the last word of Harry’s name when the magic suddenly focused itself on their connected, bleeding skin. The bonding spell stretched itself with a snap, and then with a loud _pop_ , the magic filling the air dissipated.

Breathing hard, Draco looked over at Harry, who seemed short for breath too as he marveled at what had just happened. They both pulled their hands back to look at the damage, and was surprised to see that the wounds had already healed themselves in their skin as a jagged bonding scar.  

Harry grinned brightly. “We did it.”

Raising a brow, Draco smirked. “We did. We’re bonded.” He felt a rise of giddiness fill his chest then, and he instantly knew that it was Harry’s emotion that he was feeling, not his own.

Harry seemed to be marveling at the strange sensation of foreign emotions, too, as he looked at the other boy. “You love me,” he said with awe.

Draco’s smirk deepened, and he decidedly chose to ignore the slight alarm at feeling vulnerable and so open to the other boy. “What gave it away, Chosen One?”  

Harry laughed, a joyous, happy laugh that filled the room. Without thinking, he tackled Draco into the bed, dislodging the emerald dagger so that it fell on the floor. Harry rained kisses on Draco’s face and chin and chest, and wherever his lips could possibly reach.

“I can feel you, Draco. I feel everything. Merlin, it feels amazing,” he sighed, eyes nearly rolling back at the onslaught of emotions that he felt coming from Draco.  

Feeling a bit embarrassed, but not ashamed, Draco only wrapped his arms and legs around Harry, trapping the boy against him, as he basked in Harry’s own emotions inside his heart.

“Hmm, indeed it does.”

“I love you so much, Draco,” Harry whispered, lips open and slick as they kissed up Draco’s cheek until their mouths connected. They kissed for several moments, feeling and getting used to the range of emotions reeling inside them both.

“I love you, Harry Potter. Always. No matter what happens.”

Harry’s grin lessened to a soft smile, but it was genuine nonetheless.

“No matter what happens,” he repeated softly.

Draco nodded, and he pulled Harry under the covers properly so that they could settle into sleep. It’d been a long day for both of them, and their bonding magic had nearly wiped their already exhausted bodies.

They made sure to face each other, scarred hands intertwined, as they lay in bed. Almost simultaneously, filled with tenderness and gladness for having one another, both boys fell asleep smiling.

 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sections of this story, which are in Italics, are direct lines from Half Blood Prince.

June 30

 

Harry was with Hermione and Ron in the common room when Jimmy Peakes walked up to him with a scroll of parchment in his hand. He handed it to Harry, who took it and immediately recognized who it was from.

_“Thanks, Jimmy… Hey, it’s from Dumbledore,” said Harry, unrolling the parchment and scanning it. “He wants me to go to his office as quick as I can!”_

_The three of them stared at each other._

_“Blimey,” whispered Ron. “You don’t reckon… he hasn’t found….?”_

_“Better go and see, hadn’t I?” said Harry, jumping to his feet._

_He hurried out of the common room and along the seventh floor as fast as he could, passing nobody but Peeves, who swooped past in the opposite direction, throwing bits of chalk at Harry in a routine sort of way and cackling loudly as he dodged Harry’s defensive jinx._

Once Peeves had vanished, the hall went silent, most people having already returned to their common room for curfew.

Then Harry heard a scream nearby and a crash. He froze, listening.

_“How — dare — you — aaaaargh!”_

Harry hurried to the noise, his wand at the ready, and hurtled around a corner to see Professor Trelawney sprawled on the floor, her head covered in one of her many shawls. Several sherry bottles lay beside her, one broken.

“Professor Trelawney?”

* * *

 

_Harry shouted the password to Professor Dumbledore’s office, and ran up the moving spiral staircase three steps at a time. He didn’t knock upon Dumbledore’s door, he hammered; and the calm voice answered, “Enter” after Harry had already flung himself into the room._

_Dumbledore was standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black traveling cloak in his arms._

_“Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me.”_

* * *

Ron and Hermione were sitting together in the common room when Harry came back. “Harry? Are you okay?” Hermione asked at once.

“I’m fine,” said Harry shortly, racing past them.

He dashed upstairs into his dormitory, grabbing his Marauder’s Map from his trunk, along with a pair of balled-up socks that held the small vial of Felix Felicis. He hurried back down the stairs to where Ron and Hermione sat, looking stunned.

“I’ve got to be quick,” Harry panted. “Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen ...” Harry quickly explained to them where he was going and why. He ignored Hermione's gasps of horror, and Ron's hasty questions.

“….so you see what this means?” Harry finished. “Dumbledore isn’t going to be here at the castle tonight. Which means that whoever was in that room is up to something.”

“You don’t think it was Draco?” asked Hermione

Harry quickly shook his head. “I know it wasn’t him. After everything that’s happened, I never found out what Draco was doing in there but I know whatever his mission was, he had stopped. Someone else might be trying to continue where he’d left off. Maybe it’s the person who had pushed him down the stairs…? I don’t know. But they sounded like they were celebrating something, according to Trelawney, and that doesn’t exactly sound good.” He shoved the map into Hermione's hand. “Watch Zabini, or anyone else who gets close to that corridor. Watch Snape too. Use everyone who you can round up from the D.A., Hermione. Use the contact Galleons if they still work,” Harry finished.

“And Snape?”

“There’s extra protection on the school while we’re gone, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it. Just keep an eye on him.”

“Harry —”

“I haven’t got time to argue,” said Harry quickly. “Take this too.” He thrust the socks into Ron's hand.

“Thanks…? Er, what do I need the socks for?"

“You need what’s inside them, it’s the Felix Felicis I’d won. Share it between yourselves and Draco too, if you see him. Tell him I’ll come back to him after this thing with Dumbledore.”

Ron and Hermione nodded.

“I’ll be fine, but I have to go. I just wanted to know you lot are okay… Don’t look like that, Hermione, I’ll see you when I get back. And make sure you tell Draco what I said.”

Ron frowned, but they both nodded one last time.

And then Harry was off, hurrying back through the portrait hole and toward the entrance hall.

* * *

 

Draco should have known it was all too good to be true. He should’ve expected for fate to intervene; he’d just been surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

Harry, The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Vanquisher of Evil.  

Draco, son of notorious Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, right hand man of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

It just wasn’t meant to happen. True love didn’t exist. It was a fantasy.

Draco had let himself become soft. He’d just wanted to be loved, and to love in return. He’d just wanted Harry.

But Draco should have known better, he mused angrily to himself. He should’ve known to avoid the seventh floor that night. He should have never listened to Weasley and Granger when they’d warned him earlier about how Harry had heard some activity going on in the Room of Hidden Things. He should’ve ignored those catching Gryffindor tendencies from Harry, and just fled when he’d had the chance.

No, that wasn’t right. Draco knew the real truth. He should’ve never fallen in love with Harry Potter to begin with.

And as Draco stood there in the hallway near the room, frozen with horror at the sight of his Aunt, Fenrir Greyback, and Blaise Zabini standing there, smirking darkly at him, Draco knew.

True love wasn’t meant for Draco Malfoy.  

* * *

 

_In the dim green glow from the Mark that hovered over the Astronomy Tower, Harry saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his injured, blackened hand._

_“Go and wake Severus,” said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. “Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else, and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here.”_

_“But —”_

_“You swore to obey me, Harry — go!”_

_Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but his hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps on the other side. He looked round at Dumbledore, who gestured to him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand as he did so._

_The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted: “Expelliarmus!” Harry’s body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt himself fall back against the tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or speak. He could not understand how it had happened — Expelliarmus was not a Freezing Charm —_

_Then, by the light of the mark, Harry saw Dumbledore’s wand flying in an arc over the edge of the ramparts and understood ... Dumbledore had wordlessly immobilized Harry, and the second he had taken to perform the spell had cost him the chance of defending himself._

_Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco.”_

_Draco stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore were alone. His eyes fell upon the brooms. "Who else is here?"_

Harry was so confused. He didn’t know what was going on. He felt like he’d skipped a step walking down the stairs. His heartbeat was racing, beating so loud that the rush of blood thudded in his ears. _Why was Draco here?_

 _“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?”_ Dumbledore asked calmly.

Draco looked at the Professor, shaking his head. “No,” he said _. “There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.”_

Harry’s heart felt like it was racing a mile a minute. What was Draco doing with Death Eaters? Why was he here? What was going on?

“You made a Vow, Draco,” said Dumbledore, his voice completely calm.

Draco’s eyes darted around, searching for someone he couldn’t find. “I know, Professor.”

“Yet, _you found a way to let them in, did you?_ ”

“I had no choice. It was before anything had happened,” Draco said, his heart thudding loud in his ears.

“Before… the vow?”

“Before Harry. Before practicing with him. You had never even realized.”

 _“Ingenious,” said Dumbledore. “Yet… forgive me… where are they now?_ ”

“ _They met some of your guards. They’re having a fight down below_.” Draco met Dumbledore’s eyes. “ _They won’t be long_ … Professor, they want me to… _. I — I’ve got a job to do_.”

Dumbledore gave Draco a sad smile. “I understand, dear boy,” he said softly.

 _There was silence. Harry stood imprisoned within his own invisible, paralyzed body, staring at the two of them, his ears straining to hear sounds of the Death Eaters’ distant fight._ He watched Draco, taking in the sight of him standing there, mere feet away. And he could do nothing. It felt like an icy fist had clenched itself around his heart. His feet burned to move, but he could only stare.

Why was Draco doing this? Harry wanted to yell at him. Draco had _promised_. They’d bonded, for Merlin’s sake.

The thought of the bond reminded Harry.

He quickly searched for that inner link he could feel thrumming in the background of his mind, the connection that strung between somewhere in the middle of his chest to Draco’s.

After a moment of concentration, Harry felt it. It was a soft beat, cool and delicate and soothing. Just like how Draco felt against him and when they’d make love.

But with that beat came an onslaught of emotions. _Fear. Anger. Regret. Sadness_. _Determination_.

“ _Draco, Draco, you are not a killer_ ,” came Dumbledore’s voice.

The blond’s eyes hurt from holding back tears, but he tilted his chin up. He gazed at Dumbledore with a resigned, disheartened expression. “I’m not, Professor. I knew that after…”

“ _You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley_ ,” Dumbledore sighed. “ _You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year_.”

His heart dropped and Harry felt sick. His stomach churned and twisted. His chest absolutely _ached_. And tears he couldn’t control fell in streams down his cheeks.

He didn’t know what to do. Trapped against invisible binds, Harry had never felt so helpless before, watching as his boyfriend held up a wand against his mentor.

And he couldn’t believe that the person he loved more than anything had almost killed Ron and Katie. All to kill Dumbledore in the end?

“But I didn’t!” Draco’s voice sounded loud in the Tower. Harry could see that his eyes were desperate. “I couldn’t!”

_Somewhere in the depths of the castle below, Harry heard a muffled yell. Draco stiffened and glanced over his shoulder._

“ _Somebody is putting up a good fight,” said Dumbledore conversationally_. “I had thought it impossible for anyone to sneak into my school. _How did you do it_?”

 _But Draco looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, his wand pointing directly at the old wizard’s heart_.

“You would’ve died long ago if my heart had been in it,” Draco said, his voice hoarse as he fought back tears. “But it wasn’t. Not after Harry —”

“He saved you, Draco,” the Professor said, his voice sad.

Draco nodded. “Before… before the bathroom, I — I was given a mission. _I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year_.”

“ _Aaaah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever… There is a pair, I take it?_ ”

“ _In Borgin and Burkes…. They make a passage between them_ ,” Draco admitted. “The other one is in the Room of Hidden Things. _I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the cabinets if I fixed the broken one_.”

If Harry could’ve let out a gasp, that would’ve been the moment. Instead, he could feel his eyes begin to fill with hot, angry, frustrated tears. Did that mean Draco… _Malfoy_ had betrayed him…? Had he used Harry?

“ _Very good,” murmured Dumbledore. “So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you_ —”

“I didn’t let them in,” Draco hurriedly said. “Harry was right about Blaise. He worked with Crabbe and Goyle to finish the cabinet. Blaise just told me they had finished fixing it earlier today.”

“How did he know how to fix it?”

Draco’s eyes skittered to the ground, looking ashamed. “At the start of term, I was… close friends with Blaise. I’d told him a bit of what I had to do, only vaguely mentioning certain Charms that I was using to fix something, powerful charms that I knew would impress the Slytherins, including him.”

“And so he decided to fix the cabinet without you?”

“Blaise… he thought he was helping me,” the blond muttered. “After the summer, he’d noticed I’d come back changed. I — We were… together last year. He wasn’t terribly happy when I broke it off. I thought we weren’t anything serious, and we had just gone back to being friends. But then he found out about Harry and I.”

“Mr. Zabini was jealous?”

Draco shook his head. “He thought I was using Harry as a cover. Blaise had figured I was doing something for the Dark Lord. He wasn’t sure exactly, but he knew about the Charms, and that I’d been going to the Room of Hidden Things a lot. I think I’d also mentioned the Cabinet at one point.”

“Ah,” said Dumbledore. “So Mr. Zabini though to earn your affections back by completing your mission for you.”

“He thought I was getting too distracted with Harry. He got angry, and lost it. That’s when he had Crabbe push me down the stairs. He’d been at the bottom of the stairway, waiting to cast the Truth Spell on me to reveal my true relationship with Harry. Apparently, I’d told him that I loved Harry for real. Blaise had become even angrier. So, yes, he thought fixing the cabinet would make me happy enough to give up Harry and take him back instead.”

The information sent Harry’s mind reeling. He wanted to yell and punch and kick at Crabbe and Zabini for betraying their friend and almost killing him. He wanted to rage at Zabini for even thinking he could ever have Draco.

“Mr. Zabini let the Death Eaters into the school then,” said Dumbledore in a calm voice.

“I’d made a Vow, Professor,” Draco said. “I promised to protect Harry from them. I couldn’t have let the Death Eaters in.”

“Yet, here you stand, Draco, with my wand within your reach.”

Draco took a breath, his own wand shaking badly. “I have no choice. They told me to find you. They’d kill me otherwise.”

“ _So you decided to spring a trap for me?_ ”

“ _They had already decided to put the Dark Mark over the tower and get you to hurry up here, to see who’d been killed,” said Draco. “It worked_.”

“ _Well…. Yes and no…” said Dumbledore. “But am I to take it, then, that nobody has been murdered?_ ”

“ _Someone’s dead_ ,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. “ _One of… I don’t know who, it was dark…. I stepped over the body… I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only the Order got in the way_ ….”

“ _Yes, they do that,” said Dumbledore_.

_There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where Dumbledore, Draco, and Harry stood._

Harry’s heart was in overdrive now, aching and feeling hollow inside his invisible chest.

… Someone was dead... Draco had even stepped over their body… Like it’d been nothing….?

Harry looked at his old lover, watching him with strange eyes. He’d thought he had known Draco. Instead, all he could feel towards the boy was a mixture of pain and confusion… and _hate_. Merlin, he felt like such a fool.

“ _There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore_ , slipping a little. “ _So let us discuss your options, Draco_.”

“My options?” asked Draco. “What are they?? What can I possibly do?” The next breath he took shook so badly, his body visibly tremored. “Professor, I haven’t got any options! I’m stuck!” And suddenly he was white as Dumbledore. “I swore an Oath to protect Harry. But I have an Oath with the Dark Lord to kill you. I know you’ll protect my mother, but he’ll kill me. If I don’t kill you, I can’t spy on Him for your Order and for this bloody, stupid war!”

“I understand, Draco, the difficulty of your position,” the old man said. “Either way, you risk losing something. I only wish I could have help you earlier, _but I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other…. No harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived…._ I’ve helped you once already, Draco. You’ve sworn an Oath to me.”

“How, then?” cried Draco, his wand shaking very badly now. “I let myself think I could be with Harry and fall in love with him. He let me believe we could live a happy life together, traveling the globe, retiring in our cottage. But he was a fool. I’m a fool for believing in him.”

“If you kill me, Draco, Harry would —”

“What! ‘Harry would’…. What? Hate me? Kill me himself? Throw me into Azkaban for betraying him? I know this!” Draco’s face was red with frustration now, his eyes burning from holding back tears of frustration. “And what happens if I don’t? If I let you leave? The Death Eaters are already here. They know I’m up here. And if they see you and me…. They’ll go back and tell him. They’ll tell the Dark Lord. They’ll take me with them…”

“Draco.”

“I’ve already thought about it coming up here. If I kill you, that wouldn’t affect the Vow, right? Even if it did, I’d just die and then it’d be all over.”

Harry wanted to shake his head, distress coming over him at Draco’s words. No no no, what was the Slytherin saying?

“But if I’m still alive,” Draco continued. “Then I would become a part of the Dark Lord’s innermost circle for completing my mission. I’d be able to uphold the Vow and spy on the Dark Lord for the Order. Harry would hate me, but he’d be able to live on. There would be a chance for him to win this war.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the distant sounds of shouts and broken glass echoing from below them. Dumbledore was smiling a sad, soft smile towards Draco.

“My dear boy, you thought of everything. You’re willing to sacrifice your life for Harry, even now.”

“I want to live,” said Draco. “But if risking my life means the downfall of the Dark Lord in the end…”

The Professor sighed. “Kill one, save a thousand, as the muggles say if I am correct.”

Draco’s wand dropped a fraction, his eyes intense.

And Harry felt it again, Draco’s emotions rushing through the connected link. Fear. Anger. Regret. Sadness. Determination.

 Draco’s wand shook. “I can try.” But he paused —

_Suddenly, footsteps were thundering up the stairs, and a second later Draco was buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Still paralyzed, his eyes staring unblinkingly, Harry gazed in terror upon four strangers: it seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below._

Harry’s eyes shot towards Draco again, pleading through the link. _Don’t do this, Draco!_

To both his relief and utter dismay, he saw when his words hit Draco. The blond gave a slight jerk and his eyes had grown round with the feeling. But then the blond shook his head to clear it and his eyes frantically began to search around the small area.

Draco knew Harry was in the room.

_A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle._

_“Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”_

_“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too ... charming ...”_

_The woman gave an angry little titter. "Think your little jokes’ll help you on your death bed, then?” she jeered._

_“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore._

_“Do it,” said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater’s robes looked uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that Harry had ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. Harry could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakably, of blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails._

_“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore._

If it wasn’t for Dumbledore’s spells on him, Harry would’ve gasped aloud.

_"That’s right,” rasped the other. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”_

_“No, I cannot say that I am ...”_

_Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely._

_“But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”_

_“Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual ... you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?”_

_"That’s right,” said Fenrir Greyback. “Shocks you that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?”_

_“Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little,” said Dumbledore. “And, yes, I am a little shocked that you were invited, of all people, into the school where they’re friends live_ ...”

“I didn’t,” breathed Draco. He was not looking at Greyback; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. “Blaise…. I didn’t know he was going to come —“

_“I wouldn’t want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore,” rasped Greyback. “Not when there are throats to be ripped out ... Delicious, delicious ...”_

_And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore._

_“I could do you for afters, Dumbledore ...”_

_“No,” said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. “We’ve got orders. Draco’s got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly.”_

Harry watched as Draco’s eyes grew wide, the wand in his hand shaking nervously and his cheeks ashen with fear.

He wanted to scream. Harry wanted to break free and run towards Dumbledore to protect him. He wanted to grab Draco and hold him close. He wanted to hex all the Death Eaters for even daring to hurt the students or any members of the Order. He wanted to ask what the bloody _hell_ Draco was thinking.

But he was helpless to watch as Draco’s terrified face stared into Dumbledore’s, _which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as he had slid so far down the rampart wall._

_“He’s not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!” said the lopsided man, to the accompaniment of his sister’s wheezing giggles. “Look at him — what’s happened to you, then, Dumby?”_

_“Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus,” said Dumbledore. “Old age, in short ... One day, perhaps, it will happen to you ... if you are lucky ...”_

_“What’s that mean, then, what’s that mean?” yelled the Death Eater, suddenly violent. “Always the same, weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s bothering to kill yer! Come on, Draco, do it!”_

_But at that moment there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below and a voice shouted, “They’ve blocked the stairs -- Reducto! REDUCTO!”_

_Harry’s heart leapt: So these four had not eliminated all opposition, but merely broken through the fight to the top of the tower, and, by the sound of it, created a barrier behind them —_

_“Now, Draco, quickly!” said the brutal-faced man angrily._

But Draco was shaking his head back and forth, his wand lowering slowly until it was all the way to his side. His eyes darted around frantically, searching, seeking out, as if a hero would suddenly appear and save him. “I can’t… I can’t do it. I won’t.”

“You’re weak!” snarled Greyback, his lips pulled back in a malevolent snarl that revealed his sharp, glistening fangs.

Harry struggled with all his might against the bindings, suddenly afraid for Draco’s life as the werewolf set his malignant eyes on the blond. He could feel the other boy’s heartbeat racing with severe panic.

“No!” Draco cried, stepping backwards away from the wolf. Without thinking, he turned his wand against Greyback.

“You raise your wand against me?” the wolf roared, eyes flashing. He looked furious.

_Harry’s heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear him standing there, imprisoned by Dumbledore’s spell — if he could only move, he could aim a curse from under the Cloak —_

_“Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us —” screeched the woman, but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and_ _Draco._

_“We’ve got a problem, Snape,” said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, “the boy doesn’t seem able —”_

_But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite softly._

_“Severus ...”_

_The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading._

_Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed_ _Draco_ _roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed._

_Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face._

_“Severus ... please ..."_

_Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore._

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

_A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry's scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight._

* * *

_Harry felt as though he too were hurtling through space; it had not happened… It could not have happened…_

“Out of here, quickly,” said Snape.

He went to seize Draco by the scruff of his neck, but the blond shoved his way out from his grasp.

“No, Severus, I can’t! I need to see —!”

“Never mind that traitor!” Greyback yelled with a snarl. “He doesn’t belong with us. You bring him, and I’ll kill him and enjoy eating his flesh myself!”

Snape scowled at him, but there was nothing he could do. They needed to leave. He turned to the blond one last time, glaring at him for a moment as Greyback and the squat brother and sister left, _the latter both panting excitedly_. 

“Severus,” pleaded Draco as the Professor paused near the doorway. “I made an Oath…”

Snape’s scowl darkened. “To the Dark Lord.”

Draco hesitated, glancing over to where the Headmaster had fallen. “And…”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You foolish boy!” he spat, fuming. “You’re a traitor now, don’t you see that?”

“But Severus… you…” the blond said, utterly confused and looking so lost. 

“I have to leave you, Draco. I tried helping you and it’s cost me everything.”

“But —”

“Stay here, with the Order. Otherwise, the Dark Lord will kill you.”

With that, Snape quickly left with a last billow of his dark robes.

It was like someone had cut the strings attached to him. Draco crumpled almost instantly, his wand scattering and rolling along the stone floor. His face was deathly pale, gray eyes wide with horror and bewilderment at what he’d just done; had _almost_ done.

Draco had failed. Snape had killed Dumbledore. Snape, not Draco. Draco was a traitor now. The Dark Lord would find out.

The Dark Lord will kill his Mother. He’d kill Draco.

He’d lost his chance to spy for the Order. He’d lost. Harry. The Order. The war. Everything.

Draco had ruined _everything_.    

Merlin, and Harry.… Wherever the boy was, if he found out —

“Malfoy.”

Draco’s head whirled up, horror washing over him as he saw Harry step forward from the shadows beside him.

“…Harry?” he gasped, the dread and humiliation nearly crushing him. “You saw…?”

“ _How could you?”_ said Harry, his voice a harsh whisper. His emerald eyes, so utterly vibrant and loving before… Now they looked so cold. Empty, except for the anguish and shame that filled them as Harry looked down upon the fallen Slytherin. “I trusted you.”

Draco whimpered, his eyes smarting with hot tears at the look of cruel betrayal flashing in those once beautiful green eyes.

“N-No, Harry. I had no choice…”

Draco reached for Harry; but his heart slammed in his ribs as Harry recoiled from his touch and stepped back away from him. Draco froze.

“Malfoy…” Harry’s voice sounded so broken, so hollow. “I had given you a choice, and I’d thought you’d chosen the right side. Apparently I was wrong. About everything.”

Tears welled in Draco’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks as he let out a dreadful sob. “No Harry, please. _Please_. I told you… my mission —”

“You told me nothing!” Harry screamed, the hurt and rage driving him as he roared at the blond on the floor. “You never said anything to me! You used me, Malfoy!”

“No! I didn’t —!”

“You think I could ever believe you again? I loved you! And I had thought you’d loved me back!”

“I do! Harry, please believe me. I-They —!”

“I gave you everything! EVERYTHING!”

“Harry, stop! It’s not —!”

“They were right. Ron was right. I was just blinded by my cock…”

“That’s not true!” screamed Draco. He moved forward, desperate to reach again for Harry. “You know what we have is real —!”

“KEEP AWAY FROM ME!” Harry roared, his magic rumbling loud as it filled the small space.

Draco gasped as the magic bit into him, its strength hitting the blond so hard and viciously that he flew backwards from the powerful force. His head cracked on the unforgiving stone floor, stars flashing in his eyes for a quick moment as the dazed blond fought to breathe and stay conscious. His body was against him but he struggled to force himself to roll and sit up.

“Harry…. no….” he tried to say, his words coming out jumbled and broken.

But when he looked to where Harry was at, the boy was gone. He’d left the room. Draco was alone. 

 


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Early July

 

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore died on the evening of June 30, 1997, and his funeral was held a few days later.

The late Headmaster’s funeral was a ceremony conducted for those who sought to pay respect and give tribute for his life’s works and achievements, and would be presided by the Care of Magical Creatures Professor Rubeus Hagrid. The event was scheduled to be held in the open green field on Hogwarts grounds, to honor Dumbledore’s wish to be laid to rest there.

Examinations and classes at Hogwarts were canceled or postponed, and nearly every student still in attendance at the school planned to be present at the ceremony. All Professors, excluding Severus Snape, would also attend.

* * *

 

In the days that had followed Dumbledore’s death, the school was very quiet. The students were solemn, the Professors grieved aloud in the hallways, and the sounds of sobs and tears were shed openly in nearly every direction Draco looked.

Since classes and exams had been canceled for the year, some students had decided to go home early. No one could blame them. Everyone knew that Dumbledore’s death was the tipping point for the Dark Lord’s war to begin. Most parents urged for their children to return home instantly, but the students who stayed were determined to attend Dumbledore’s funeral ceremony first.

One student who was almost imperceptibly absent was Blaise Zabini, along with Crabbe and Goyle. Draco figured the latter two were on their way to join their father’s in becoming junior Death Eaters. Zabini, Draco wasn’t sure of. The Slytherin boy hadn’t been on the tower that night, nor had Draco seen him afterward in the aftermath after the blond had eventually left. He figured Zabini had joined the other two. But he honestly didn’t care.

Since he’d left the tower that night, Draco had been in a fog. He hadn’t slept the last few nights, he’d hardly eaten, and his lack of personal care was nearly close to showing itself. His hair had become limp, and his robes seemed to hang from his bony shoulders. But he didn’t care. He had no room to care. No energy. No motivation. Just a blanket of numbness. Nothing. Draco literally felt nothing.

He’d thought he’d feel sadness or anger at everything that had happened. He thought he’d feel some sort of remorse and heartbreak at losing Harry. The loss of Dumbledore, Snape, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, all of them. It should’ve hit Draco hard.

But he felt nothing, which he was somewhat glad for. It felt better to be numb than to feel overwhelmed with the crushing emotions of despair, fear, pain, humiliation, disgrace… The list could go on.

The morning of Dumbledore’s funeral, Draco was awake early and already packed for the Hogwarts Express, which was scheduled to leave an hour after the funeral.

Draco decided to skip breakfast, like he had skipped all of his meals in the Great Hall these last few days.

It was still early in the morning when he showered and then left the dungeon wearing his dress robes, bypassing a sparse but subdued crowd around him as a few students walked into the Great Hall in preparation for one last announcement from Professor McGonagall. Draco ignored them, heading for an entirely different direction on the seventh floor.

His feet carried him up until Draco soon stopped. He stared at the empty section of the wall.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching blankly as he willed for the room to do something. Could it revert time? Would it show Harry to him? Could the room do that, create rooms and objects as well as people? Draco honestly didn’t know what to ask the room to do. He was pulling a complete blank.

Eventually, his body moved without thinking, crossing across the hall three times until a door appeared.

Draco opened it and walked inside, not surprised to see the room appear as it always did. His eyes roamed around, taking in the space one last time.

The loveseat sofa, littered with small cushions, sat with a small table in the corner. The tapestries hung above. The four-poster bed was on one side of the open room, its plush covers and silk sheets appearing warm and welcoming as it always did.

But it was so empty.

Draco had felt that before. Without Harry, it was just another training and studying room. It didn’t mean anything. If someone walked in right now, they would never know that this was the space in which Draco’s life had irrevocably changed. It was the room in where he had fallen in love, the room he had lost his virginity to the only person he’d ever want, the room he’d made his lasting choice to choose Harry above all else, the room where he had screamed and cried tears in, where he had loved a boy and shared his entire heart with, where he had bonded with his soul mate.

And Draco had known. He always had. The little sparks of light and the heated touches he’d felt from Harry from day one. If the concept of soul mates existed in the wizarding world, Draco knew that he and Harry had been it.

But now without Harry, it was just another space. Without Harry, it was nothing.

Draco was nothing.

He’d failed. His mission, his Oath to Dumbledore to protect Harry, his promise to spy for the Order. He’d failed and lost nearly everything. And after he left Hogwarts, Draco was sure it would only be a matter of time until the Dark Lord found him. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bounty currently on his head now.

He would have stayed at Hogwarts so that he could stay safe. He would’ve even tried going into hiding, in his family numerous town homes or secret villas scattered across the globe. But there was no point. Being a traitor to either side of the war was like open season on him. He wouldn’t get very far either way.

Draco was surprised Aurors hadn’t been sent for him already. He would’ve thought Harry had told the others what had happened on the tower, of what Draco had done in disarming Dumbledore and leading him to his ultimate death at Snape’s hand.

There were only two reasons Draco was sure of on why he wasn’t in Azkaban at that very moment — Harry was either biding his time to have him arrested until the war officially started or when they were off Hogwarts grounds, or Harry had forced the entire event from his mind because he couldn’t bother with Draco anymore.

Draco was positive that it was the latter. Going off by Harry’s reaction and his last words on the tower that night, Draco was sure Harry didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Since the incident, Harry hadn’t even looked in his direction or had even acted as if Draco existed. It reminded Draco of the first time Harry had ignored Draco all those weeks ago, except worse because this time Draco absolutely knew that it was his own fault and that Harry was never going to come after him.  

Draco wasn’t dismissing his actions. He knew that while he hadn’t said the words or aimed the wand, Draco was partly responsible for the Headmaster’s death, and in turn responsible for setting the early spark towards the start of the Dark Lord’s war. He knew it and accepted it. His only problem was, Draco wished he wasn’t so alone in this. He’d had choices before — to join the Dark Lord or to be by Harry’s side. Neither were options now.

The Slytherin sighed, heart aching just a bit. He blamed the room for the numbness receding. This space had always been a safe-haven for Draco to take cover and bear it all open with Harry. His emotions always become raw the moment he crossed the door.

Even now, his breathing was starting to become labored in his chest. It hurt to take a breath, almost struggled as his heart began to pick up speed, and pound faster and faster and harder. It hurt. It hurt so much. Draco shut his eyes, willing his heart to relax and the numbness to take over, but it was too late. He was feeling the emotions, and Merlin were they bloody hitting him all at once in waves… again and again. Anxiety, despair, worry and panic. It was like a sledgehammer to his ribs, pounding over and over and over. There was a thudding in his ears. His heart hurt. His head felt stuffed. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. No no no no no no nononono.

The darkness began to lick at the corner of his eyes, and Draco fled forward.

His body hit the mattress of the bed in the corner. Draco didn’t think, he just climbed in and buried his face into the pillows. He shut his eyes tight and wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to just hide and escape it all. Leave behind the wizarding world, and all of its obligations and lack of mercy.

He just wanted to end it all. To just stop everything. From hurting, from happening. Draco wanted the numbness back _. Why wasn’t it coming back?_

“Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry…”

He didn’t know how long he chanted as he rocked himself on the bed, tears threatening to fall. His body seemed to lack the energy even to cry, because they just stayed there stinging his eyes.

Merlin it hurt. He hurt everywhere.

And what he would give to have Harry back in his arms again —

“ _Draco_.”

The blond stilled.

No. Please no.

He rocked himself faster, closed his eyes tighter.

“ _Draco, I’m here_.”

Merlin, fuck. This was like salt being poured into a stabbed wound. Had he actually conjured a fake Harry by wishing the room to bring him to Draco?

“Draco, can you hear me?”

The voice was coming closer.

No no no no no no no.

“Draco, why are you doing that? Stop it, please.”

Draco couldn’t handle it. He went to cover his ears.

“Love, what are you doing? Listen to me. Uncover your ears and look at me.”

His rocking slowed. He couldn’t help himself. Even though a part of him dreaded the thought of a conjured Harry talking to him in his room, the rest of him yearned for his presence, ached for it.

Draco opened his eyes and slowly turned around to see Harry standing by the bed, looking at him with both worry and remorse.

“Draco,” the other boy sighed, his eyes a bit swollen and his face flushed, like he had been crying for hours overnight.

Draco gulped, feeling his own swollen eyes welling up with more tears.

“Harry, you’re here…?”

The figure gave a bitter choke of a laugh, but he nodded.

“Yes, Draco. It’s me, really.”

Draco was so confused. He felt lost.

Who was this? Was this really Harry? Or the room’s conjuration of him?

The blond studied the boy, taking in his wild black hair and his horribly round trademark glasses.

It certainly looked convincing. If he was real…  But Draco almost didn’t care either way. Harry was here.

Harry had come back to him.

Fuck the part of him that said he should be angry and resentful, and dismiss Harry.

Harry was here.

“Harry,” he choked out, the tears finally falling as he sat up completely. He reached out a hand towards him. He needed to feel him. See if he was real.

The other boy was already meeting him halfway, and had to partly crawl on the bed so that they could both wrap their arms around one another.

Draco’s breath whooshed out of him the moment his body fit into Harry’s. “Harry, Merlin Harry, you’re here. Fucking hell,” Draco gasped out, his nose and face buried into Harry’s shoulder as he gripped onto the boy’s robes.

Harry was holding on tight to him, too, shoving his face and cheeks into Draco’s hair and breathing in the Slytherin’s musky and familiar scent.

“Yes, I’m here. Love, I’m with you. Took me a bloody stupid while to come see you, but I finally got my head on straight.”

Draco almost didn’t want to say anything and just keep holding onto Harry like he was. Forever.

But Harry had broken his heart, shattered it into pieces the other night, and the little amount of pride that Draco had was rearing up and demanding answers out of the Chosen One.

He pulled away, though not taking his hands from Harry’s. The other boy didn’t seem to mind.

“Why?” Draco asked, not even knowing exactly which question he wanted to ask. There were so many answers he wanted to know, answers he felt he deserved. “I… I’d hoped you’d come back. At least once before the train left. For sentimental reasons, if for nothing else.”

Harry sighed, looking down and away from Draco.

“I hadn’t planned to, the last couple of days. But this morning, the last day… I somehow knew you were going to be here. I didn’t even have to check the map. I just felt it.”

“The bond?” Draco hesitated to mention.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, probably.”

“What did you feel?” he asked.

“It’s difficult to describe. I didn’t feel anything at first, but once in a while I felt like I got a snippet of how you were feeling at the time — sad, lonely, hungry. Did… er, did you feel anything from me?”

Draco wavered. “Yes, a bit. I felt your anger,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I also felt like you were really tired, and lonely too. And…” Draco paused. “I felt your love…”

The other boy gave a forlorn smile. “Yeah, I did — do feel that.”

Draco felt a bit more confident now. “You missed me,” he said contemplatively. “I felt it the most anytime I walked into the same room. You felt… like you were missing something, until I would walk in. You’d get happy. But then the anger and confusion would return.”

Harry bit his lip, still refusing to meet Draco’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“So, you came to your senses then and sought me out?” said Draco, a bit of his old self seeping back in. Now that the Gryffindor was back within reach, it was like a habitual role he fell into whenever he was with Harry. Even hurting and heartbroken that he was, Draco knew Harry wouldn’t be here if he didn’t still love him. He knew it, felt it. He shouldn’t have given in so easily, but he hoped Harry was here to at least apologize. He thought he deserved that much.

“Hermione helped a bit,” admitted Harry. “Told me that she hadn’t even had to know the whole story. When you and I weren’t seeing each other these last few days, she’d figured I’d said something the other night to you.”

“I was giving you space.”

“I know. You shouldn’t have had to, but… well, I’d practically screamed at you. Which I’m really sorry for. According to Ron and Hermione, I tend to act a bit dramatic after a loss of someone I care about.” His tone was flippant, but his eyes and stance were anything but.

“That’s completely normal, Harry,” Draco said softly. “I understood that. Even when you’d been angry and yelled at me, I knew that. You’d just lost Professor Dumbledore, your mentor. Right after going to find a horcrux, which I had figured couldn’t have been very easy. Dumbledore didn’t look… right after you came back.”

Harry shook his head, the fringe of his hair flying wildly. “I had to poison him,” his voice whispered. “I didn’t think about it then, but how could I have possibly been angry with you when I’d practically helped kill him myself?”

“You were angry at me, as well as yourself. Both of us played a role in Dumbledore’s death,” Draco said.

“But you wouldn’t have killed him,” said Harry, his eyes meeting Draco’s steadily. “I know it.”

“I wanted to,” Draco muttered. “Merlin, it would’ve solved everything if I had just killed him. I would’ve been able use that to secure a place within the Death Eater’s ranks. I wouldn’t have been completely safe, but it would’ve helped in gaining information for your Order. I would have been able to save mother…”

“But you’re here now, with me,” Harry pointed out seriously. “I know that if you had… killed him, you wouldn’t be here with me right now. You’d be with Snape and your aunt and the Death Eaters instead.”

Draco gazed softly at Harry. “You’re right.”

“I had felt that,” Harry said, his voice broken but a bit awed. “I felt your determination and anger in wanting to kill him. That’s partly why I became so angry. I knew what you wanted to do, despite Professor Dumbledore helping you and willing to help save your mother.”

“I should have killed him, but I couldn’t.”

“You chose not to.”

“Because I’m weak,” Draco uttered. He remembered Greyback’s words to him that night.

“No, because you are strong,” Harry said. “I know you wouldn’t have chosen that other path. I was too blinded by everything to realize that the other night, but inside I knew it all along. Dumbledore was right, you’re not a killer, Draco.”

Draco nearly whimpered at the onslaught of emotions Harry’s words brought in him. It was such a comfort, a relief, to have Harry here again beside him, holding him.

There was more that needed to be said, though, and Draco looked up carefully at Harry.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told him. “Because Snape carried out the order instead.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, he did.”

Draco hesitated. “I think he was supposed to, though. I think Snape knew what would’ve happened if he’d let him live. He was bound by an Unbreakable Vow that he’d made with my mother to protect me. If I couldn’t carry out the deed, he had to.”

Harry listened carefully, for once. Draco was glad for it, and he watched Harry’s shoulders slump with resignation.

“You think Snape killed Professor Dumbledore… and is still on our side?” His tone was doubtful.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Draco admitted. “All I know is that Snape isn’t what you think. I didn’t follow my orders. Snape should’ve killed me, or at least taken me with him to deliver me to the Dark Lord for being a traitor. Instead, he told me to go to the Order. He practically sent me to you instead of taking me away.”

“Yeah, I heard that…”

Draco looked at him, his eyes cautious and watchful. “Do you believe me?” he asked him.

Harry stayed quiet for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed and his frown stagnant on his face.

“I don’t know,” he eventually admitted. His eyes met Draco’s. “But I think we already established that I don’t do too well in thinking when I’m an emotional wreck,” he sighed. “I don’t know whether to trust Snape or not. I’m still angry as hell at him. Snape still killed him.”

“That’s understandable.”

“But I’ve already doubted a Slytherin way too many times,” he continued. “I trust you, Draco. Despite everything that happened on the tower, I was feeling too overwhelmed at it all, I wasn’t thinking straight, but I do put my trust entirely into you. I should’ve shown you that, that night.”

“I believe you, Harry,” said Draco softly.

“If you think I should give Snape a chance,” he said. “Then I’ll believe you.”

“I know he’s not entirely bad,” Draco told him. “I’d watch out for him, but I do think he’s still playing both sides.”

“The questions is, which one?” Harry scowled, looking away.

Draco shrugged. He watched Harry for a moment, his eyes locked onto that frown and the boy’s full lips. He realized he missed kissing Harry, and Draco gave Harry a soft smile. “Thank you, Harry. For trusting me.”

The Gryffindor turned back to look at him, slightly startled at the abrupt statement. But he sighed, pulling Draco close into his embrace. Their bodies fit together perfectly, as always.

“I love you, Draco,” Harry said. “Truly, I do. I’m so sorry for hurting you, and I’d completely understand if you never forgave me again —”

“Foolish as I am to take you back so quickly after you nearly broke my heart the other night,” Draco muttered, tone partly in jest. “Love makes people do stupid things. It saved us, though. It’ll keep saving us, I know it. I love you too, Harry.”

“You’ll stay with me then?” asked Harry, looking at him. “With the Professor… g-gone, I still need to look for the horcruxes.”

Draco hesitated. “What about…?”

“The locket was a fake,” he scowled, arms tightening around Draco. “It was empty except for a note inside.”

Harry reached into his pocket, where he held the small piece of paper with him always. He handed it to Draco, who took it and read it carefully.

Draco frowned. “R.A.B.?”

The other boy shrugged. “I dunno who that is.”

“R.A.B….” Draco thought to himself for a moment. “I’m not sure who that could be. But I had a cousin named Regulus Arcturus Black. Apparently, he’d been into the Dark Arts and there were rumors he’d been a follower for the Dark Lord once.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? Isn’t that a relative of Sirius’s?”

“His brother.”

Harry remembered now. “Sirius told me he had gotten killed. He’d found out something about Voldemort… I’m not sure.”

“The initials fit the name. Regulus was involved with the Death Eaters, and he did work under Voldemort. It all fits,” Draco pointed out.

“But how could he have found out about the horcruxes?” asked Harry. “I don’t believe that Voldemort actually told someone his secret.”

Draco thought back to what little information he knew of his mother’s side of the family. “Well, if we were to find any kind of information about Regulus, it would have to be at the Black Family House, right? There might be a way for me to…”

“You’re right!” Harry cried happily. But then he stopped. “Damn, I forgot.”

“What?”

Thinking furiously, Harry told him. “The Black House. I can’t tell you about the house because Professor Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper for it.”

Draco frowned. “What, why? That house should’ve gone to Sirius Black, since he’d been the only living relative left. He hadn’t any heirs, though, so I’m not sure who would have been able to inherit the house.”

Harry raked a hand through his hair and scratched his neck a bit. “Er, me actually. Sirius gave it to me in his Will.”

The blond looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“We use it for the Order Headquarters though, which is why we needed a Secret Keeper. We keep the house under Fidelius.”

Draco nodded. “That makes sense. It’s better it went to you, then, and not to my mother or me. If anything of Regulus’ could tell us more about him, it would be in that house.”

The Gryffindor gave him a big grin for his effort, and laid a quick kiss on the blond hair in thanks. “I’m glad you’re with me. Dumbledore was right about you being able to help us.”

Draco smiled softly at him. “For you, Harry.” He reached up, and pulled the Gryffindor down for a slow kiss.

Harry hummed into the blond’s mouth, utterly relieved and feeling whole again at Draco’s touch. It was like a craving he couldn’t get enough of. Draco was so addicting and wonderful.

When a few minutes had passed, they finally broke away. Both of their eyes shined.

“The funeral is about to start. We should get going,” said Harry after a moment, looking reluctant to leave the blond’s embrace.

Draco was glad for that. He felt the same way, and he was sure Harry felt that too.

He sat up with Harry and crossed towards the door with him to leave. Before they left, they stopped to turn, almost as one, so that they could look back behind them.

Draco took it all in one last time, feeling both melancholy and appreciative as he studied the room. He could feel Harry’s emotions of contentment and pleasure as he also scrutinized the space. Draco was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt grateful for the room and how it provided for them, in more ways than what they thought they’d initially needed.

They were leaving a special place, like a home. A small piece of themselves.

“We’ll come back.”

Draco looked at Harry, smiling. He nodded. “Yes. We will.”

Then he took Harry’s hand and left together with him out of the room.

* * *

 

The funeral was beautiful in its own poignant way, Draco thought to himself after the display of arrows from the centaurs’ tribute. He watched as they turned back into the trees, along with the other few creatures who’d decided to pay their respects to Dumbledore. The crowd began to also shift around them, the staff moving silently but quickly as students also hurried to say their last goodbyes before heading towards the Hogsmeade Station to board the Express.

Draco had stood a little in the back in the shadow of a low hanging tree, away from Harry and his friends to give them some space. He felt he didn’t deserve to sit among them, contrary to what Harry might have said otherwise. The blond knew the truth. He’d played a hand in Dumbledore’s death. It didn’t matter if Harry had done likewise because of the poison, or if Dumbledore’s blackened hand would’ve become worse and eventually spread even further. Draco was the one who’d disarmed him. He’d live the rest of his life knowing that.

He watched Harry now, glimpsed his flushed, tear streaked cheeks as he talked amongst his friends. Draco felt a rush of undeniable coldness sweep over him as he looked at them and at everyone else around. Students, teachers, reporters, the castle ghosts, those who worked in Hogsmeade, and the Ministry. He saw the many tears and heard the whimpers and sniffles of those in the crowd; he could almost feel the lingering pain from the merpeople who were swimming away.  

It was a lot to take in and when he felt a hand suddenly in his, Draco hadn’t realized that his own breathing had been coming fast until he stopped. He didn’t have to look over to know that it was Harry, and that his friends had gone off without him, walking together just a bit away from where Draco still stood.

“I told them,” came Harry’s voice.

Draco glanced at him. “About?”

“I’m not coming back to finish Hogwarts,” he said. “I have to go back to the Dursleys’ for the protection spell that lasts until my birthday. Then later, we need to attend Bill and Fleur’s wedding or Molly Weasley will have my hide. Afterwards, we’ll begin our search for the horcruxes at Godric’s Hollow.”

“What’s at Godric’s Hollow?” Draco asked him.

“It was where my parents died; I’d like to visit them. I also think there might be a lead there for the horcruxes.”

His tone sounded all kinds of sad, and Draco couldn’t help but fall in love with the Gryffindor just a bit more. He wanted to protect Harry so much — this boy, who’d seen death and witnessed his loved ones killed right in front of him, who fought the Dark Lord and lived to fight him again and again — and Draco was just glad for the chance to be there by his side where he could. Harry deserved to be protected.

“I’ll go with you,” said Draco, smiling. “At your side, the entire way.”

Harry gave him an unreadable look. It might have been a cross between worried, grateful, and loving.

“I’d actually wanted to give you a speech about how it’s too dangerous, that Voldemort likes to use people who I’m close to —”

“But you knew I wouldn’t give a fuck and that I’d ignore you anyway so I could travel with you to those stupid muggle Dursleys,” Draco talked over him, dismissing his words. “Smart man.”

Draco tugged away from Harry so that they could leave the tree’s shadow and join the crowd towards Hogsmeade.

“I thought Slytherins were all about self-preservation?” Harry smirked, walking along beside him with a smile.

Draco kept forward, and spoke his next words with a purposeful haughty voice. “We’re also very ambitious and resourceful. Thus, I’m aligning myself with the most powerful wizard in the world who can kill the other powerful Dark wizard in the world.”

“Ah, so you’re just using me for my magical and political affiliations.”

“That, and your money,” Draco drawled proudly.

Harry shook his head, grinning widely. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re the Boy-Whose-Hair-Cannot-Be-Tamed. We’ve all got our burdens.” But Draco smiled softly back at him, giving Harry a wink as he did so. Harry just groaned.

They neared the Hogsmeade Station where the Hogwarts Express waited for students to board. Draco saw the rest of his dorm mates, Pansy, and a few other Slytherins boarding the train already. He didn’t see Weasley or Granger, but he assumed they’d already boarded as well. It was nearing the time for the train to depart.

“Stay with me?” Harry’s voice said beside him.

Draco thought about it for a moment, looking at the crowd around them and seeing the glances from the other students as they stared at the two of them together. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, standing so close near each other without a single insult traded between them.

For a second, Draco considered saying no, only to protect Harry’s reputation and safety from the Malfoy’s influence. If they’d been in school, rumors would’ve surely started and the public would’ve surely voiced their opinions on the matter.

But Draco honestly didn’t care. A war was about to start. He couldn’t go back home to Malfoy Manor where his mother may or may not be. He’d been killed before he could step on Malfoy grounds. And Draco had already decided not to run. His only choice left was to stay with Harry and remain by his side; it wasn’t too much of a difficult concept to become accustomed to. It was the obvious choice, really. And he was happy to do it.

So, who cared what anybody thought? Draco was in love with Harry, and Harry loved Draco. That’s all that mattered. The war could start tomorrow, next week, next month. But here, right now, he was with Harry. He’d help him find the horcruxes, they’d defeat the Dark Lord together, and they’d come out on the other side of this alive and with each other.

Harry was still waiting for an answer as the crowds around them thinned until a sparse number of students remained on the platform to board. The Gryffindor had one hand on the bar to lever himself up, and he glanced back at Draco questioningly with his other hand raised towards him.

Draco gave Harry an attractive smile. “I’ll always stay with you,” he said, grabbing a hold of Harry’s hand.

Harry gave him a wide smile back, green eyes glittering with warmth and happiness.

Later, Draco would be immensely glad for that smile and that amazing open look that Harry gave him. It would be the only memory, the only thing that was pure remaining that would give him hope in the upcoming months of pain and torture. Draco was glad for those precious few seconds that his hand was in Harry’s, their eyes connected, their bonded link tingling warm and tender between them.

They’d been so wrapped up in the moment that they didn’t realize until it was too late when the Hogsmeade Station was suddenly filled with the loud cracks of apparition and the sudden appearance of black robes and white masks.

Both boys didn’t even have time to react as the station went pitch black — they both instantly recognized the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder — and the last thing Harry saw was Draco’s grey eyes go wide before the blackness swept over him. Then Harry felt Draco’s hand being ripped away from his and Harry’s hand grasped only air.

It was only a few minutes at the most and when the black smoke finally dissipated, Harry stood frozen on the train with his hand still outstretched grasping nothing.

A few students who still hadn’t boarded were either standing still with fear or had fallen on the ground. No one seemed hurt, nobody was killed.

But one person was missing.

Harry hopped off the train, ignoring the rush of sound that sounded in his ears. His eyes roamed over the platform, searching frantically.

He heard someone call out his name behind him. Harry didn’t look. He started running.

The sound of someone screaming vaguely registered to him. The scream was anguished and broken. Like someone had been torn apart.

 _Draco wasn’t there. Draco was missing_.

Harry felt a rumbling below him.

It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t an earthquake; it was him.

 _The Death Eaters took him_.

Then Harry realized he was the one screaming. His magic was running wild.

And the realization fully hit him.

Draco was taken.   

 _Draco was gone_.

Voldemort had kidnapped Draco.

 

 


	23. Epilogue

_White hot agony._

_Flames. Or at least what felt like icy heat searing inside his veins._

_He knew that his fingers were broken. The bones of his toes were shattered. He knew this because he couldn’t move anything without a surge of vomit and dizziness overwhelming him._

_And the pain was so excruciating, he wanted to scream out loud with the agony of it._

_Terror seeped into his very heart at the core of him._

_Helplessness._

_Despair._

_He was going to die. He knew it. He knew with all of his heart._

_His hope was fading._

_The light was growing dim._

_He was losing the fight._

_Oh, but how he missed the other boy. So, so much. His heart felt full with tenderness and heartache._

_And love —_

_Burning and throbbing sensations overwhelmed him once more. Panic filled his nerves. And pain!_

_So much pain!_

_And agony. Misery and despair filled his heart again._

_Darkness. The darkness was safe._

_Escape. Hide. Forget._

_He felt himself slowly slip away._

_…. And then something else._

_…. Laughter… satisfaction that the plan was effective... The boy would be his…. His body was almost ready… blood coated the floor…. Blond hair spilled across the stone…._

_His forehead was burning terribly…. White hot agony…._

And Harry woke up in a cold sweat, tangled up in his thin blankets as they lay haphazardly around him. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and his forehead was burning so hot Harry wouldn’t be surprised if his scar had split open.

But none of that mattered, because Harry was close to screaming with anguish. Tears flowed from his eyes as he gasped brokenly and sobbed; turning onto his side while gripping his pillow hard.

Even awake, Draco’s emotions from the dream echoed in Harry’s heart. Those feelings of _fear_ , and _pain_ , and _helplessness_.

And Harry couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.

Draco was gone.

He was being tortured. By Voldemort.

And he couldn’t do anything.

Harry had never felt so weak in his entire life.

* * *

Early September

 

Two full months now. Sixty-one days and nights. Which meant it was just over 1,460 hours since Harry had last seen Draco.

In that time, he’d done nearly nothing else except think of the blond.

Harry remembered how long it had taken the Professors and staff at Hogsmeade Station to react to what had happened.

While Harry had collapsed into a mental state of shock on the platform, Ron and Hermione had run from the train to try to revive him. The train became delayed as the staff had issued a lockdown and searched for any other missing students.

Later, Harry had found out that it was about a dozen Death Eaters who had stormed into the village of Hogsmeade and raided it shortly after Dumbledore’s funeral.

Because the station was outside the protections of Hogwarts, they’d been able to apparate directly onto the platform to carry out their mission.

No one else had been hurt, and the Aurors had later stated that Draco Malfoy had seemed to have been the only student targeted on the Hogwarts Express. The authorities hadn’t known how the Death Eaters had planned their attack or whether they had inside intelligence concerning Draco Malfoy’s exact location at that exact time.  

A search had been underway as the Aurors had deemed Malfoy Manor to be the obvious first choice to search for him. But apparently, the wards of the Manor prevented anyone from entering or getting near. The Aurors who attempted to storm in weren’t heard from or found for the longest time, until a few weeks later when their burnt and broken bodies were recovered several hundred yards away from their previously assigned location.

After that, Malfoy Manor was declared enemy territory and a hazard to anyone who dared tried to enter.

Harry wanted to say damn the consequences and storm inside to rescue Draco anyway.

But the Order refused to hear of it, including his best friends and the Weasleys. They argued with him, told him to think rationally and avoid doing something that could get himself killed. They said that walking into Malfoy Manor was a suicide mission, and that it was a trap for Voldemort to get his hands on Harry.

He listened to all of this, but he didn’t give a damn. He screamed and yelled at them that he didn’t care, he was going to save Draco by himself if no one else would. His magic reared itself a few times as he fought to keep his wild emotions under control.

Until finally it was Remus Lupin who managed to calm Harry down with his statement of sympathy. He told Harry how he would’ve reacted the same way if his newly married wife, Tonks, had been kidnapped. However, Remus told Harry, in order to save the Malfoy boy, they needed to have a plan. They needed to prepare themselves wisely. Or they’d all be killed, including Draco.

And Harry had had no choice but to relent.

Because he knew the truth — Harry could feel that Draco was still alive. Harry could feel the bond between them stretched like a tight piece of corded string. Luckily, when Harry reached out to feel Draco’s emotions, it’d been calm and quiet those first few days, which had brought a sense of comfort to him. The bond was still there but nothing extenuating was happening, otherwise Harry would feel it.

So, Harry reluctantly went to the Dursleys, and he stayed with them for a short while until they left. Then Harry had been transported to the Weasleys, and although Harry fought hard against Voldemort, he still lost Hedwig, Mad-Eye was killed, and George lost his ear.

Meeting Ted and Andromeda Tonks had been a comfort, because he’d known Draco was related to them. He’d wished he could’ve talked to the woman longer, but he was whisked away to the Weasleys by portkey without much time to dawdle.

After that, everything was a blur. Dumbledore’s will, the snitch, Bill and Fleur’s Wedding, the announcement of the Ministry having fallen… and all throughout, Harry had the most vivid dreams at night.

He dreamt of bloodcurdling screams — hearing them only, at first.

Then he’d dreamt of fear. Terrible, anxiety-filled, repulsive horror that filled his nerves even after he’d awaken. He began to feel paranoid during the daytime, and jumped at nearly every sound and movement of those around him.

It only got worse from there. The screaming had soon become louder and more internal. Pain entered Harry’s dreams after almost three weeks had passed since Draco’s kidnapping. And the fear never lessened.   

Throughout it all, Harry wept and he ached. He tried to send emotions through the link, tried to communicate in any way through his bond with Draco. It had worked at first, too; he’d felt it. After a particular night of dreaming about his stomach being in pain, Harry had woken up and immediately sent feelings of love and hope through the bond. The pain had diminished soon after, and he almost felt a spark of determination being sent back from Draco.

And he loved it. He loved every single moment that he could feel Draco through their bond. He missed the boy so bloody much, and it was heart wrenching not having him in his arms. The fact that he could communicate with the other boy, even if it was only this way, was the only thing that kept Harry sane.

He passed the days with a determined stride. Before long, the days soon turned into weeks and then into months since he’d seen Draco. Harry worked hard with Ron and Hermione planning their mission into finding the horcruxes, until finally they got a lead. Umbridge had the locket.

The night before Harry, Ron, and Hermione were set to break into the Ministry to get the locket from Umbridge, Harry was laying in his bed.

Instead of sleeping, he was busy sending waves of reassurance and love to Draco. He could sense through the bond that the other boy was feeling immense hunger and physical pain. The blond struggled to send even a glimmer of responsiveness through the bond, but Harry kept at it late into the night.

Harry was in the middle of sending a strong, impassioned wave of hope through to Draco, sending him a message of how close they were to obtaining a horcrux, when he felt the bond seemingly waver for a moment before the tight string suddenly froze.

Harry instantly knew something was wrong. The bond that flowed between the boys had always been a warm, comforting heat.

Now, the bond felt like something cold and foreign had taken ahold of it.

Harry struggled to use his magic to recover the bond, elongating his power to feel itself around and against the magical strings, searching for that foreign substance so that he could get rid of it.

And then there was a strong shake within Harry, precisely at the connected point in his chest where he knew his bond originated from.

The connected cord thrummed once, twice, like someone was pulling at it. Opening it. Dissecting it.

Harry sat up quick, clutching his hand to his chest as he let out a silent cry of pain at the agonizing assault. His breath left him in quick, raspy gasps. His hand clenched tighter, as if holding his heart back into his chest while it struggled to tear itself out.

He fought harder and harder, confused and distressed at what was going on. He didn’t know anything. He was so scared. Who was invading their bond? Who was trying to break it apart?

Then, hot, searing pain crashed into his chest and filled his limbs.

Harry did scream then, as he twisted over and onto his side at the feeling of a gaping, bleeding hole being carved into his chest. He felt a hard snap, like a cord breaking apart after too much tension, and Harry let out another roaring scream, hands clawing into his chest, head wrenched backwards in agony.

It was too much.

The forceful breaking of the bond, his connection to Draco going deathly quiet, and an immediate emptiness like his soul was being wrenched in half — the abrupt pain overwhelmed Harry, and he felt himself finally give in to the pain.

His bond with Draco was _broken_.

His scar began burning, everything went black for a moment.

Then he the saw the whiteness of his own long-fingered hand against a door…. _He knocked…_

* * *

They never asked him questions. They never cared to really speak to him about Harry or Dumbledore, except to hurl insults at every chance they could. Draco had tried bargaining with them at first, knowing it was useless. Money, gold, information on Harry and the Order (They couldn’t know that it was false details. Draco refused to break his Oath to the light side).

But no one listened. They only wanted to hear his screams.

Today, Draco was chained to the wall.

His placement always changed according to whoever’s turn it was to torture him. The room had no windows, and only flat stones lined the walls and floors. One door let his torturers in and despite the many times Draco had tried to wandlessly spell his way out, he never got very far before he was brought back and chained. Then he was beaten further until he was near to death.

Draco stopped trying after his body was rack tortured for the third time. And oh how it filled Draco with irony at how medieval and Muggle their torture methods were.

Sometimes it was Peter Pettigrew who came into his dungeon cell or even the Dark Lord himself. Most of the time it was just the Death Eaters as they took turns seeing how loud he could scream.

The lackeys weren’t very imaginative, and so he mostly only endured a few Crucios from them until their bloodlust was sated. They usually kept him on the floor, watching with glee as Draco writhed against the cold stones.

Whenever they weren’t torturing him inside the room, they hovered in groups outside the cell door. They laughed and spit and jeered at him, calling him Potter’s whore and tormenting him with false news of the boy’s capture or death. Draco loathed them all.

Out of all of his tortures, Draco hated when his aunt visited, rare that it was. She loved to tie him up onto a chair and send blasting hexes wildly towards him. Some would hit the ground around him, and a few would manage to hit his toes or his legs. He never knew how many of her spells would land. She also had him gagged whenever she visited, so that his screams were always muffled by whatever dirty cloth she conjured around his mouth.

“Oh, ickle Draco wants his mummy!” her mad cries echoed through the room. They were not nearly loud enough to be heard properly over Draco’s screams as two of his toes were blasted off. “Oh, did that hurt? Does wittle bitty baby Draco want to stop playing with me?” she mimed a whiny, babyish voice hysterically. “Ah! I know! Have another instead!” She aimed another hex, which missed his pinkie toe by mere inches. She yelled and danced in frustration. “Ah, traitor! You deserve more than this!” And then she’d deliberately sent a hex that tore a layer of skin off of his right leg, and blood coursed down to his feet in thick rivulets.

Draco threw back his head in agony, letting out another muffled scream amongst his aunt’s maniacal laughter.

Draco also hated when the Lestrange brothers visited him. Their bloodlust was nearly unquenchable as his Aunt’s. They loved to take turns making him scream the loudest. Knives were their specialty, and they loved showing off their skills as they carved into Draco’s skin. Most of their art was abstract, but occasionally they’d find inspiration in carving words into his body.

_Traitor. Whore. Deserter. Mudblood lover. Failure. Weak._

Rodolphus had a knack for slicing neat, bloody gashes down his face. Draco screamed as the knife ripped down his skin, not so deep as to puncture bone, but enough to cause a thick scar if it wasn’t healed properly. Worse than that, Rodolphus reveled in Draco’s screams and would reward Draco for every one he let loose with a wet lick or kiss against his lips. It disgusted Draco, and so he tried to hold the sounds in, but after three or four slices he’d break and let out a loud cry of excruciating pain.

“Ah, yes, that’s it. So fucking beautiful, you are,” one of the brothers would say. Draco began to lose track of who would say what through the haze of unbearable agony. His head lolled forward, his chin brushing his chest. He saw the drip drip of his blood as it coated his legs and the floor around him.

“Look at him, taking it like that,” the other brother would pant heatedly, and Draco could swear that if the brother could, he’d get off on this; he was such a bloody lunatic.

And the Lestrange brothers always made sure his gags were removed when they were there. They loved to laugh at his screams.

Draco had begun to lose count of how many days he’d been in the dungeon, how many different tortures they’d all performed on him.

Every time someone cast a curse or sliced him up, afterwards was always the same. He felt white hot agony tear through his chest with every panting breath, and he’d cry out. He tried to whimper, screw his remaining pride, but sometimes the pain was just too great.

Most of his days were actually filled with silence, thankfully, as he recovered between bouts of torture. Peter Pettigrew was sent in to heal him with certain potions after each torture session. He was usually fully healed every single time. His bones would be mended, the cuts and bruises that bloomed his skin would disappear, and any internal bleeding he suffered was also healed.

He was always unblemished when the Dark Lord would come to see him. And Draco dreaded his visits the most out of everyone. He’d only visited twice, and both times had nearly broken Draco beyond the brink. This was because the Dark Lord never resorted to physical means or magical torture.

He attempted to emotionally and mentally break Draco.

The first time had been two weeks after his being kidnapped. He’d been tied to the chair at the time, stripped naked and his clothes strewn in strips around the room. He would get another set of grimy clothes a few days later, but at that moment Draco shivered with fear and at the icy coldness of the dungeon.

The Dark Lord’s red eyes gleamed in front of Draco, assessing him. He’d stood over him, just looking at Draco’s naked body with a blank sort of stare.

Draco had been gagged, too, since it’d been left over from a session with his Aunt Bellatrix. Pettigrew had healed him right before the Dark Lord’s appearance. He hadn’t, however, replaced his clothes or untied him. Which is exactly what the Dark Lord had wanted.

After what felt like half an hour of those red eyes perusing his bare skin, the Dark Lord finally stepped forward. And if Draco could have, he’d have sickened up all over the floor at what the man did to him.

His touch on Draco’s skin had filled him with utter revulsion. The Dark Lord’s hand trailed along his cheek, down his jawbone to his chin. He’d wavered there, running his reptilian, white hand across the skin of Draco’s lips. Draco had nearly shuddered at the smell and near taste of the Dark Lord’s musky, decaying scent.

He’d almost been relieved when the hand had moved away, until he felt him sliding both of his hands across his chest and down his pebbled nipples. The Dark Lord hadn’t lingered, thankfully, but he kept going lower and lower until he’d pressed against Draco’s flaccid cock.

Draco had nearly jumped as those icy cold hands gripped his length, not touching him in a sexual way but merely examining every inch of him.

The white hands had settled onto his thighs and abruptly pulled his thighs apart. Draco had screamed at that, but the sound was muffled. The Dark Lord didn’t react except for a twitch of his cold lips as he perused his arse hole carefully with his cold, red eyes. He didn’t do anything for the next few minutes except hold Draco’s legs apart and stare at the shivering skin. Draco had felt beaten and stricken with his other torturers, but never had he felt so invaded like this. So open. Violated by those red eyes.

The Dark Lord did nothing but look, but that somehow was worse than him doing anything else because Draco didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t actually think the mad monster would rape him but he wasn’t sure. That might break him, because he only wanted Harry to have ever been inside him. Another person’s cock thrusting in him instead would be a total act of violation against his body, as well as his connection to Harry. It would be one of the worse things he’d had to endure, despite his bones and skin being torn and broken apart.

Luckily, the Dark Lord never did anything like that. But his next words chilled Draco, and would continue to haunt him for the weeks to come.

“Your body is perfect,” the Dark Lord had hissed, pleased. “So perfect. You should be honored to receive me.”

Then he’d left.

And Draco had been scared to death for his next visit.

Which happened right on Harry’s birthday.

 

* * *

July 31st

 

Draco lay on the floor, fully healed but sore from not haven eaten anything for two days. There was a bowl in the corner for him to relieve himself. They gave him water twice a day and food once a day. It wasn’t much either, just whatever leftovers they’d somehow retrieved from one of the house elves. Draco hoped. He couldn’t bear to imagine what grime he’d been eating for the last month. But for some reason, they’d skipped his meals recently. Draco absently wondered if he’d done something wrong, or if they’d actually forgotten about him.

He’d tried pleading with them as to what they’d wanted. He’d screamed at them, yelled, cried, asking for any kind of reason as to why they were doing what they were.

But he never got an answer back, just a vague response from Peter Pettigrew, who told him that all the torture was to “prepare” him. Draco tried not to think too much about it after that.

Today he was waiting quietly, humming brokenly to himself as he tried to lose himself into thoughts that took him away from this cold cell of his.

Sometimes he’d used Legilimency to lock his mind away just for a short retreat. It didn’t take up too much magic, which he was glad for. Lack of food and water was draining him in more ways than one. But Draco was glad for the occasional escape.

It was just like one of his sessions with Harry, when the boy had taught him to resist Imperius. He’d concentrate on calming his mind and envisioning his room, except instead of his bedroom it was now the room he and Harry used in the Room of Hidden Things.

He’d had everything exactly like the room, too. Their bed was in the same area of the room, along with the sofas and the table, the tapestries, the book cases of interesting spell books. His school trunk and wardrobe was added in one corner, along with a small bathroom.

Most of everything in the room wasn’t necessary, but Draco wanted to get it exact so that he could lose himself in the room in the middle of one of his Aunt’s or Uncle’s tortures. It was a helpful escape he’d only use once in a while. He was afraid that one of his torturers would find out why he wasn’t screaming as much, and somehow give him a potion or other way to prevent him from escaping into his own mind.

It was on these escapes where he’d meet Harry too. How he loved the moments when Harry would send him reassurances through the bond. Draco always tried to send love and other small, quick messages to him. But his lack of strength sometimes made his mind a bit fuzzy, and it was harder for him to concentrate enough to form a coherent message back.

_I love you, Draco. Please stay strong. I want to save you. Takes time. Need help._

_Luv you, mis you. …Tired._

_I know, love. Stay awake. Stay alive._

_‘right. Gonna live._

_Miss you. Very much. Hang in there, love._

Draco lived for these moments, and he looked forward to them every day.

But on Harry’s birthday, the bond was strangely silent. Draco tried not to think anything of it, but it did worry him a bit. He also hadn’t been tortured for the last few days, and he wondered if the Death Eaters were too busy with something else, like a raid or another attack.  

Merlin, Draco hoped Harry was safe.

Draco had heard movement, then. He struggled to sit up, still a bit weak from malnutrition but a bit more energized from being left alone for a short while.

He heard the lock on his door open, and he prepared himself for a Death Eater to show himself and get to work.

But to his absolute, jaw dropping horror, a boy with a familiar nest of black hair was shoved roughly into the room. He was bare naked, with not a stitch of clothing on him. When the boy fell, he practically collapsed onto the stone floor, like his arms and legs were too weak to support him.

Draco noticed how the boy’s hands were shaking, and he realized the boy must have suffered at least half a dozen Crucios to not be able to even sit up.

The door was slammed closed. Draco hurried to the boy’s side, dreading the worst as he turned the figure over.

His heart slammed hard into his ribs as Harry Potter’s features came into view. The boy was unconscious, he could see that now. But the scar, the messy hair, his knobby knees… Harry Potter had been captured and thrown into the same cell as Draco.    

Draco almost wept, cradling the unconscious boy against him and rocking him back and forth as his thoughts raced.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Harry was captured. Did the Order know? Were they coming to save him? Fuck, Harry is here. If the Dark Lord finds out —

A noise near the door sounded, and Draco quickly looked up. He tried to move Harry’s body away from view as the cloaked figure stepped in.

The figure shed his cloak and red eyes revealed themselves.

_No!_

The Dark Lord had arrived, and Harry Potter lay unconscious on the ground.

_NO! This couldn’t be happening._

“Ah, the lovers are reunited,” the Dark Lord hissed gleefully, teeth gleaming as he smiled. “Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived.”

The Dark wizard waved his hand, and magic filled the room as several things happened simultaneously.

Draco felt himself being thrown against the wall with the chains, the metal manacles wrapping and locking themselves around his ankles and wrists. Draco was helpless to fight back or move, and he watched powerlessly as another wave of the Dark Lord’s hand sent Harry’s body hovering into a chair. Another wave and Harry was bound and gagged as well.

Draco’s heart was beating against his chest fast, and blood began to pound in his ears. No no no, this wasn’t happening! Harry couldn’t be here! How’d he get in? Had he been captured?

Thoughts raced through his mind as he panicked and blackness began to fill the edges of his vision.

No, this couldn’t be real! Not him. Not now.

The Dark Lord seemed to read his thoughts clearly on his face. He turned Harry’s chair so that he and Draco could face each other.

“ _Rennervate.”_

Harry stirred from the Dark Lord’s spell, his green eyes blinking open wearily. His head slightly tilted around until he found the strength to fully look up.

Green eyes met Draco’s, and he watched as Harry’s eyes widened. His eyes kept growing and Harry began to struggle in his bonds. The boy looked down quickly, seeing the ropes around him, and began to struggle harder. He began screaming and yelling, but the gag prevented any words to sound through clearly.

“Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord hissed from behind him.

The green-eyed boy froze. He slowly tried to turn his head around to see the wizard behind him.

“And Draco Malfoy. A blood traitor and the Chosen One. Both in one room. Both at my disposal.”

Draco recoiled at the look in those red eyes. He tried to form a coherent plan so that he could wandlessly release himself and save Harry. But he was too weak still and there were too many variables. He didn’t know how strong Harry was after his bout of curses, and he was sure the Dark Lord could kill him before he had any chance to defend himself.

It was a losing situation either way that would only end up with one, if not both of them, killed.

“Ah Draco, how far your family has fallen. Whoring themselves to the other side.”

Harry was still struggling and screaming, but the Dark Lord ignored him for the moment.

“Did you want to know how your precious Chosen One got himself captured?” the wizard hissed. “He was found skulking on the property, trying to save you.”

Draco whimpered, gazing into the panicking green eyes.

What was Harry thinking? Why would he do such a stupid thing? Where were Granger and Weasley?

“He tried to save you, Draco. He came to rescue his beloved.” A toothy grin spread on his malevolent features. “He risked everything to save your life.”

The tied-up boy struggled faster, harder, rocking wildly in the chair as it threatened to tip over.

Voldemort chuckled darkly.

“I think you should give him a reward,” he hissed maliciously, and waved his hand in the blond’s direction.

Draco’s eyes widened as the chains released him, and he fell hard onto his hands and knees onto the floor. He struggled to breathe through the pain for a moment, so he was too distracted to protect himself as the Voldemort cast his spell.

“ _Imperio_.”

A fog clouded Draco’s mind and his limbs relaxed to his side.

“ _Stand_.”

He felt his legs moving before he could even think to struggle. He stood up in front of Harry, gazing blankly ahead.

Inside himself, Draco was hurriedly escaping to his room to try and close the door against the dark claws that raked through his mind. He pushed and shoved his way against the barrier that would keep the Dark Lord out from controlling his mind and thoughts.

“ _Go to Harry_.”

No, no, no. He concentrated hard, shoving all of himself safely into the room away from the Dark Lord’s grasp.

In the outside world, Draco’s body faltered, one step hovering in the air.

The Dark Lord frowned.

“ _Go to him!”_

But the blond was winning, and Draco slowly settled both feet on the ground. He didn’t move.

The Dark Lord hissed with fury.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Draco fell to his knees, screaming and writhing on the ground as white-hot knives pierced every inch of his skin. Inside his mind, Draco also felt the spell invading him, and the image of his room began to blink out and falter as he struggled to concentrate.

The curse was lifted. The pain went away, and Draco laid on his side. He looked right into panicked green eyes. Draco tried to reach for the bond that stretched between them, but he was too weak. Too tired.

“ _Walk to him_.”

Draco couldn’t even try to struggle this time. His head hurt and his mind was aching. His legs carried him over until he stood right in front of Harry. The boy’s eyes met his, and Draco yearned with everything that he had that Harry could make it out alive somehow. He tried to will it to be so, chanting the words over and over in his head.

He has to stay alive. He has to stay alive.

The Dark Lord was pleased that the spell seemed to be working this time. He was glad that the blond seemed more powerful than he’d imagined previously. It worked perfectly into his plans.

“ _Kiss him_.”

He was surprised, but Draco didn’t bother to fight against this order. Whatever happened, he was glad for this last chance to touch Harry. His body bent itself and his lips met the other boy’s. There was no pleasure in the kiss, because the spell kept everything carefully blank for Draco.

But even looking at the other boy’s reaction told Draco that it was different for Harry too. The green eyes were wide, fear and confusion dancing within its depths.

“ _Kill him_.”

Draco’s eyes widened, and his hand raised itself up without much hesitation.

No! NO!

Draco couldn’t fight it though. He was tired, he hadn’t eaten, he was weak from nearly an entire month of torture. His earlier fight against Voldemort’s Imperius had drained him considerably, and he had nothing left in his reserves to struggle again.

“ _Kill him. With the Killing curse_.”

Draco’s hand began to grow green as he began to cast wandlessly.

No no no _no no no NO NO NO!_

His heart pounded. He ached and his chest was moving hard with every breath. Sweat beaded his forehead and his hand trembled madly as he fought against the Dark Lord’s order.

“ _KILL HIM_.”

His hand steadied and the green glow grew brighter.

_NO! NO!_

But Draco’s body wasn’t his anymore. He stood still with his glowing green hand out, raised towards Harry’s chest. Panicked green met his grey, glassy eyes.

And he was too weak and helpless to fight anymore. He was panicking. Draco was terrified at his loss of control, and he could nothing. Nothing. He was weak. His training sessions with Harry had been useless. Draco was still as weak as ever, and he could do nothing about it. He was losing.

He knew it.

And Draco knew exactly when his body finally gave up the struggle.

The thundering of his heart and his panic began to subside. A cold something seeped into him. Everything felt calm and peaceful. He was swept away, and the door to his room in his mind closed firmly behind him as the waves carried Draco. He was floating, flying so high. He was away. He was safe. He just had to listen.

“ _KILL HARRY POTTER.”_

Draco didn’t blink. He didn’t hesitate this time. Because everything suddenly made sense. He just had to give in and listen. The pain would go away.

His hand raised itself and all Draco saw was green. He opened his mouth….

And promptly closed it.

No.

He couldn’t.

He _wouldn’t_.

_He refused._

He would not kill Harry!

Draco’s hand lowered itself with difficulty, but he was in control now and his eyes strayed over to Voldemort’s. _Triumphant_.

 _Fuck you,_ he wished he could say.

And the Dark Lord glared menacingly at him, lips curling back to reveal vile teeth as he let out a long hiss.

“Traitor,” the man hissed.

Then he stepped forward, raising his own wand towards the green-eyed boy.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

The green glow hit the boy straight in the chest. Green eyes widened right before the green radiance spread. Everywhere. Everything. The light encompassed every single living thing.

And there was screaming. It was a heart wrenching, broken, loud, viscous cry that echoed and bounced off the stone walls.

Draco was frozen, helpless to stare as the green eyes went lifeless. Hollow. Empty.

And the screaming grew louder. The walls were thudding. The floor was shaking. Dust fell from overhead.

He fell and fell and fell. Hard onto the cold, unforgiving ground.

And the Dark Lord was laughing madly. He was grinning and roaring with delighted, dark laughter.

Draco couldn’t stand it. He wanted to kill. _Kill_. Kill Voldemort.

The screaming became more pronounced.

It altered into a viscous, snarling growl of a word. “ _Avada_ _—!_ ”

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Draco’s screaming switched to a more piercing pitch. His body was wracked with agony for several minutes as the Dark Lord punished his mind and body.

Within his mind where Draco had been safe, the room shuddered once, twice. The memories of the room filled him, flashing before him and encompassing every single cell of his body. It lasted only a couple of minutes, but it was so much all at once. And it grew louder, and stronger, and fuller, until… until…

Draco felt something within his mind _crack_.

The Dark Lord eventually lifted both spells and he stood over Draco.

He hovered like a dark demon over his broken, motionless body.

“Dear Draco,” the dark voice hissed from above. “You’re weak. A coward.”

It took a moment for the words to register in the pain hazed mind of Draco’s. When they did, Draco stared up blankly at the wizard.

“But it matters not.” Sharp teeth stretched into an evil smile. “Did you really think Potter would die at your hands?”

Draco’s head was hard to control. It was like he had no power over his senses any longer. But he managed to tilt his head a bit so that he could look at Harry’s body.

But no, it was changing.

Harry’ hair suddenly morphed and shrank until it was less of a mop. His pale skin grew a few shades darker and darker, until it was a black boy and brown eyes that lay lifeless in that chair.

If Draco could’ve gasped, he would have. But he just stared. Blank. Empty.

The boy had been Blaise.

Blaise Zabini was dead. Not Harry.

Draco vaguely heard the dark laughter sound again before the Dark Lord left the room, leaving the bodies of both boys inside.

Crumpled on his side, gray eyes never moved from those lifeless brown ones. Not for hours.

And while he should have felt relief and happiness at Harry still being alive, Draco lay there. Broken.

The Dark Lord had finally destroyed his will and everything that he contained.

He was just an empty shell now, his gray eyes a mere blank reflection of his former self.

Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy line, privileged prince of Slytherin, and former lover of one Boy-Who-Lived was no longer.

He was just an empty, broken shell of a boy who had felt too much, seen too much, lost so much, and just felt empty now.

Draco was gone.

He felt at peace.

* * *

Early September

 

A month of ongoing torture later, Draco Malfoy was deemed ready.

The Dark Lord was pleased that his last method had worked so well on the boy. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been unsettled at the lack of reaction they’d received in the last month when they took turns torturing the boy. Sometimes the boy still screamed. But it was automatic, meaningless screams that sounded. The boy’s soul seemed to have gone elsewhere some time ago.

Voldemort entered the room, his dark aura filling the small space of Draco Malfoy’s cell. As he looked, the Dark Lord noticed the way the boy’s bloodstains coated the floor and how the blond hair spilled across the stone. The boy’s broken shell of a body lay motionless in the corner.

Physically, he was perfectly intact. No cuts or bruises, no broken bones. Other than curse scars that slashed across the boy’s chest, Draco Malfoy’s body was perfect and exactly what he needed.

“Pick him up,” he ordered Wormtail.

The measly man hurried to do his bidding, and he picked the Malfoy boy up and slung him over his shoulder.

They left the room and walked into another open space where a single altar lay in the middle.

Wormtail deposited the Malfoy boy’s body onto the empty slab.

The Dark Lord grinned. “Perfect.”

He looked around at his inner circle that surrounded the perimeter of the room. He saw Severus standing nearby, his black eyes riveted on his former student. Lucius Malfoy stood next to Severus, and was another empty shell of a Malfoy. However Lucius was aged from Azkaban, and much more haggard. The Dark Lord delighted in seeing the horror in Lucius’ eyes as he gazed upon his only son and heir. Voldemort only wished the Malfoy set was complete with Narcissa Malfoy, but her absence was well noted; another traitor in the midst of both the Black and Malfoy families.

Voldemort glanced around, red eyes boring into his followers as they cowered at his presence.

He stepped closer to the dais, and readied his wand. The Dark Lord motioned to Wormtail.

“Begin the spell.”

* * *

 

Draco was reading by the warm fire, indifferent to the room around him. It was quiet. Bare, except for a bed and a few sofas. The small room was barely lit.

He heard a sound and Draco looked up.

There was a figure standing behind him, a strong back facing him. Black hair filled the top of the figure’s head.

“Harry?” Draco heard his voice ask. He set the book to the side and stood up.

The figure didn’t turn.

“Harry?”

He reached for the figure.

But the man’s shoulders began to shake. The man began to laugh.

“No, actually,” a deep, charming voice sounded. “I go by another name.” The man turned. Attractive features and dark brown eyes faced Draco. “My name is Tom Riddle.”

The blond frowned.

Something was wrong.

He knew it, but the reason why escaped him.

“Who?”

The attractive figure smiled.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll soon be someone else anyway.”

The blond was drawing a blank. He stared at the figure, trying to reach for some emotion to feel towards the stranger.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. About anything. He felt nothing.

“You’re weak,” the man named Tom Riddle spoke.

Draco looked at him. He stayed quiet.

“You’re weak, but your body is somewhat healthy. Potions would have healed any injuries you might have come upon before.”

The blond didn’t move.

“Would you mind terribly if I stayed here? This room is nice.”

Draco gave a small shrug. He didn’t care. He turned back to the book.

“Oh, what’s this?”

Slightly curious, Draco turned to see what Riddle was referring to.

He grew still.

Riddle was touching the link.

In Draco’s mind, the link was a glowing, white chain. It was the only source of light that filled Draco’s room, and it stretched high across where the ceiling was above him.

“What is this?” Riddle repeated, running his hand across the chain.

Draco shuddered. The whole room shuddered. Violently.

“Stop.”

Riddle glanced at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? So, you have a connection with someone else then. Who is it, I wonder.”

His entire hand wrapped around the chain this time, gripping it tightly. His face concentrated as he studied the link.

“Stop it,” Draco said louder.

“Your bond with the other person is quite strong. Emotional, too. He’s quite powerful.” Riddle tugged at the chain. He grinned at something. “Oh, I think he felt that. He certainly doesn’t feel very happy about it.”

“Stop it, please.”

Riddle tugged harder. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Draco tried harder to feel angry, to get upset. But the emotion escaped him. He lost the fight in him. Draco only knew that what Riddle was doing was wrong.

“Leave it alone.”

But Riddle’s charming smile slowly turned malevolent. He tugged harder, yanking the chain so tight that Draco felt a vague, painful pierce in the center of his chest. The palm of his hand began to tingle.

“No.”

But his voice was just a broken whisper. There was no strength in it at all.

Riddle laughed harshly, and he yanked harder. He yanked and pulled and tugged and twisted the chain.

All the while, Draco stood there, watching. He wanted to move, wanted to say more. But the words escaped him, and he didn’t know what he could’ve done anyway.

He felt nothing. He could do nothing.

The burning in his chest grew and grew, with every violation that Riddle made upon the chain. Riddle didn’t stop. He wrapped his hands around the link now, bending and wringing it, folding it across itself as he attempted to break the links, using his own magic against it, until finally —

 _POP_.

Draco fell to his knees as his legs suddenly gave out. The light that had illuminated the room earlier vanished into a million pieces, and only the slight glow from the fire gave Draco the chance to see anything.

Oh no.

Something had happened.

Something terrible just happened.

He felt so lost.

So incomplete.

So empty.

Why did he feel so suddenly alone?

Draco didn’t know what had happened. But he was cold, so terribly cold. He wrapped himself into a tight ball, unheedful of his world around him. His eyes unseeing.

Tom Riddle looked over at him, seeing the empty shell of the boy that had once been the proud heir of the Malfoy line.

Oh how the mighty have fallen, he chuckled to himself.

Riddle turned his back to the boy and to the darkening room that enveloped him.

He spread out his hands, and began to chant.

Slowly, bit by bit, Draco’s mind began to recede into itself as another more powerful force filled his body.

The entity was strange and malicious. Draco’s magic tried to fight it for a moment, but it was useless. His magic gave in, and the surge of dark power enveloped him from the inside out.

Memories of Harry, of his parents, Hogwarts, Malfoy Manor, the wizarding world — it all began to twinkle away until it was mere dust specks clouded around Draco.

He huddled into a tight ball, his gray glassy eyes staring into a far-away place.

He never noticed the figure named Tom Riddle making himself right at home within his body.

* * *

 

Outside in the physical world, the Dark Lord was immensely pleased.

Some time had passed, and the spell was working marvelously. The Death Eaters looked on at the cloud of magic that had enveloped Draco Malfoy. Powerful magic was at work here, and they all knew it.

Only two pairs of eyes looked on in horror as they witnessed the inevitable outcome transpire. They couldn’t move forward or help in any way, however. They had no choice but to watch helplessly.

When everything finally began to settle down, and the swirling cloud of ancient magic had diminished from around the boy’s body, Voldemort stepped forward to gaze upon his new creation. The only one of its kind.

While the Dark Lord did feel a bit brittle and vulnerable at the moment, he waited. Nothing at first. Then, the strong chest began to rise steadily once more.

There was a stir.

The boy took his first breath. His eyes opened. And they were red.

Lord Voldemort grinned.

“Welcome to the living, Mors.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I utilized the ancient Roman myth and literature use of Mors, who is essentially the personification of death.
> 
> And it is finished! Hope you enjoy the next Part 2 of this series! I will be updating every week. : )

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and Kudos are always lovely! I'd REALLY love to hear more from you guys!  
> 


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